


Fallen

by StormiTheCriminal



Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Abuse, Torture, Uchiha Madara is broken, Uchiha Madara-centric, marital rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25952260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormiTheCriminal/pseuds/StormiTheCriminal
Summary: Obito brings back the four Kage in addition to Madara with Rinne Rebirth. With their full power regained, Hashirama and Tobirama converge on Madara, but they are not aiming to kill him. The chakra seal they burn into Madara's skin removes the last of his resistance. The aftermath shakes the shinobi world and proves that Hashirama, Tobirama, and Madara were merely players in someone else's game.Nothing is ever as it seems.Ch.1 - Ch.10 = Part 1Ch.11 - ? =Part 2
Comments: 108
Kudos: 124





	1. Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have had this idea in my head for months and I have been staring at this first chapter for weeks, wondering if it is good enough, detailed enough, canon-accurate enough, and I decided, fuck it. 
> 
> I have a solid direction for this story, but I am always open to contributions. I also have not decided if this story will have any pairings. If you think it should, please let me know which!

**Consequences**

“Heroic ambition seemed to have been the cause of much of the world's pain then - quite like it is now. No villain ever saw himself a villain: he only saw himself a hero; and this goes just as no hero ever saw himself a hero: he simply did what he had to do. No true hero initially sets out with intentions of being deemed a hero.”  
― Criss Jami, [Healology](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/48697422)

x.X.x

Every cell in his body buzzed and he could _feel_ life energy oozing into his veins. Madara closed his hollow eye sockets, tilted his head back, and sucked in a heady lungful of air.

_Alive_.

The heavy scent of blood, dirt, metal, and ash burned his nostrils and he nearly laughed at the beauty of it. His lips pulled into a wolfish grin of delight. Finally, he was able to truly enjoy the moment - to enjoy the _pain_.

How delicious was the aroma of war – of _chaos_? How he missed the moments where the world outside matched how he felt on the inside. His newly beating heart pounded against his rib cage as if trying to get out. He was one more step closer to victory.

_To salvation._

And yet, something was not quite right.

His manic delight melted into confusion. His confusion jolted into shock. Then his shock ignited into a burning rage. The powerful chakra signatures around him sung loudly as if mocking him.

They were much _too_ loud, and the realization was crushing.

“Obito, you _bastard_ ,” he snarled under his breath, locking his highly tuned senses on Hashirama. He may have lost his eyes when brought fully back to life, but he didn’t need his sight to witness the massive spike in Hashirama’s chakra. Not just his, however, Tobirama’s, Hiruzen’s, and Minato’s as well.

_That wasn’t part of the plan, you brat._

Obito had altered the Rinne Rebirth at the last second to bring all four late Kage back to life in addition to himself.

A ragged gasp from his childhood friend told him that the chakra rods were still embedded in Hashirama’s back. _Good_. That should keep him from moving for a while.

At his full power, Hashirama was a serious danger to his plan. He mustn’t be careless. The bastard had managed to get behind him in his first life, he couldn’t let that happen again. The Rinnegan may have been enough to tip the scales, but he would not risk it. Not after coming this far.

Something inside of him – a part of him he long thought dead – encouraged him towards the brunet. When he took a hesitant step back instead, his stomach clenched uncomfortably. Now was not the time to be weak. A quiet, cruel voice reminded him that Hashirama had killed him. The man he felt before him was not the Hashirama he met as a child. And Madara was no longer the child he once was either. They were nothing but enemies raging another pointless war that would result in nothing but more pain. 

_Do not trust him. He doesn’t want you_ ; _he doesn’t care_. _Remember the plan_.

“Madara-!”

_No, you had your chance._

It was time to pull back; he’d socialized with those worthless shinobi enough. Madara swiftly ignited a burning cloud of ash to distract the brats approaching him and leaped away towards where he felt the tailed beast’s chakra. For now, the cards were still in his hands. Hashirama – the only one who might be able to defeat him – was wounded and would need time to heal. He had to act _now_.

“Summoning jutsu!” He slammed his palm to the ground. The Gedo statue was maliciously pulled from Obito’s body and appeared at Madara’s feet – lifting him into the air with its bulk. The shinobi below scattered to make way for the impending battle between the bijuu and Madara.

The Uchiha ignored the pitiful members of the shinobi alliance, he wouldn’t hold back, no matter how many lives would be lost. The Infinite Tsukuyomi was worth the sacrifice of a million men. They would not die in vain as long as he succeeded. 

Madara required at least one of his Rinnegan back to properly control the statue. Obito had one and the other was on its way to the battlefield. In just a few moments he would have what he needed.

The tightly coiled masses of chakra that were the bijuu began to tense. They were getting ready to attack.

_Good_.

As if on que, white Zetsu merged through the statue at his side. “It’s about damn time!” Madara hissed, claiming what was rightfully his. The plant bastard shrugged a shoulder casually.

“The tailed beasts are mobilizing, if they attack together, they could destroy the statue. Then all is lost.”

With a gentleness he seldom used; Madara pressed the eye into his bare right eye socket. His chakra immediately rushed to the area and fused his optic nerve to the eye. The raven hummed and grinned with satisfaction as the world flickered into view; the tailed beasts would hardly be a challenge now.

Blood ran down his face and he welcomed the liquid onto his tongue. The world became brilliantly sharp and the rush of power that came with the dojutsu made it feel like he was floating.

“Let them come.” If they attacked now, they would only be helping him recreate the ten tails. His limbo clones would deflect or absorb any attacks and he’d suck the beasts into the statue while they were distracted.

It was almost _too_ easy, as long as Hashirama stayed _away_ he’d –

The Gedo statue shook violently as the ground below began to split open. The tailed beasts had yet to move. The statue sharply canted forward, forcing Madara into a crouch to remain stable. A dozen massive vines as thick as a bijuu’s arm broke through the earth as easily as if it were water.

_Deep forest emergence._

He could almost hear his rival call out the infamous jutsu’s name. The creaking limbs tightly wrapped around the Gedo’s mouth, holding it closed while several others rounded the head, going straight for Madara. Hashirama had clearly learned how the statue worked and was preventing Madara from feeding the stone beast.

The fallen Uchiha cast out his senses towards Hashirama and found a strong presence beside him; _Tobirama_. The albino brat must’ve removed the chakra rods. Tobirama was not a match for him in terms of power, but he was a cunning little shit and a damned expert in seals. It was in Madara’s best interest to stay away from them.

_Senju bastards_.

The man snarled and quickly activated his Susano’o. Blue energy exploded outward and swiftly took form. The ancient avatar was barely fully active when several vines exploded directly through the Gedo’s head beside Madara’s feet. The raven leaped upwards and urged the susano’o to move away from the vines, but it didn’t move. Or rather, it _couldn’t_.

The vines had pinned it to the statue and while Madara _could_ conjure his perfect Susano’o to break free, he didn’t want to destroy the Gedo statue.

With a vicious shout of frustration, he let the Susano’o sizzle out and he skidded to the side to avoid the Mokuton. He activated his limbo clones and sent them to begin sawing through the vines. They were able to do so relatively effortlessly while the original Madara followed behind. The Mokuton limbs seemed sluggish and were hardly fast enough to do serious damage. He shrugged it off, thinking that Hashirama was still weakened from the chakra rods.

The second they broke through, Madara surged forward and into the air. He reanimated his Susano’o and bounded over to Obito’s body. Black Zetsu was still on him; still keeping him alive.

 _He needed that eye_.

His true power could not be used without both Rinnegan and if Hashirama wanted to continue to fight, he’d be wise to have both. Madara would not allow the Senju an easy opening to turn the tides. He had fought much too hard to slip up now.

Maybe he should drop a few more meteors on them. Surely the Mokuton could not stop that.

There were a few Konoha dogs standing around Obito, – one of whom was a Hokage - but he paid them no mind. The ground shook under the weight of the susano’o and the avatar quickly yanked Obito’s body within itself. Minato wasn’t even fast enough to stop it. All gentleness was lost as Madara reclaimed his eye. The boy’s body was kicked out onto the ground – _useless_.

Madara would admit that he hadn’t expected the betrayal, but he’d prepared for it. Obito was dead weight the moment Madara was reanimated; they all were.

With his eyesight and dojutsu completely restored, he took a moment to survey his options. The Gedo statue was swarming with vines and foliage, he couldn’t capture the tailed beasts without at least freeing its mouth.

Removing the Mokuton without damaging the statue would be a challenge.

The air rippled as Hashirama moulded a massive amount of nature chakra. The raven’s heightened visual prowess immediately recognized the sage jutsu and Madara skidded out of the way just as several large deity gates slammed into the earth. _Not again_. The progression was odd. Hashirama never fought like this. It seemed like he was just throwing jutsu at him without a strategy.

No, he knew the Senju better than that. Hashirama _always_ had a plan.

A vine wrapped around the Susano’o’s leg, stalling it long enough for a deity gate to catch an arm and pin it down.

Madara cried out in frustration and furiously abandoned the Susano’o before he was trapped within his own jutsu. The vines were curling tighter and tighter around the Gedo statue. Even from a distance, he could see the stone beginning to fracture. He had to act before it was damaged further.

He propelled himself forward, using his limbo clones as protection as he went. As much as he hated to admit it, it might be in his best interest to retreat. With Hashirama and Tobirama now alive, he needed to be particularly careful – even with his Rinnegan. The Uchiha had thought – _hoped_ – he’d left those two assholes behind, but it seemed Kami had a different plan.

There was only _one_ Gedo statue, if it was destroyed there would be no way of getting it back. Then the Infinite Tsukuyomi would be an impossible dream once again. The two distinctive chakra signatures of the Senju brothers were headed for the statue as well. They seemed intent on destroying it, or him.

His limbo clones decimated anything he approached, cutting through Hashirama’s Mokuton like butter and absorbing any ninjutsu hurled forward by his little followers. The strength of the Mokuton wasn’t concerning, it was the sheer _magnitude_ of it. Hashirama was creating more vines than his clones were destroying.

The God of Shinobi was becoming a massive pain in his ass and now that he was _alive_ , there were no limitations. Hashirama had access to _all_ of his chakra and _all_ of his abilities.

Madara should have realized then that he was deliberately being herded into a trap. The wooden vines sprouted through the Earth from behind him, but never from the front.

His options were limited, he needed to protect the statue. He would rather retreat temporarily than lose a major piece of his plan. Madara had waited nearly a century already, he could wait a little longer.

It took several grueling moments to reach the Gedo statue, but he was there before the brothers. Madara dove for it and rolled to a stand on its head. He quickly weaved the appropriate hand signs and pressed his palm down to the surface.

The air around him twisted and swirled as the statue was sucked into Madara’s body. With the statue safely sealed away, Madara could bring forth his perfect susano’o and disappear into his underground tunnels. Hopefully after taking out another good chunk of the shinobi alliance. Perhaps a few more meteors were indeed in order. He pressed his hands together as he swiftly dropped to the ground and began molding his chakra –

Every cell in Madara’s body pulse violently with foreign energy and then _froze_.

His limbs rapidly went numb and he felt detached as if his soul was hanging on to his body by a thread. Like a balloon tied around a toddler’s wrist.

Enormously bright chakra rapidly approached just as a vicious, boiling pain cut through his abdomen and rapidly spread up towards his neck. He _knew_ that pain.

The Uchiha’s head dropped forward. He couldn’t see anything through his armour and shirt, but he could _feel_ the black chakra seal slithering aimlessly around his torso. They cruelly played with his chakra network, disrupting it enough to prevent him from focusing a lethal ninjutsu.

“No,” he whispered, if he could move beyond a few twitches and jerks, he would have clawed and pulled and torn his flesh until there was nothing left but his bones.

No one had laid a hand on him! It wasn’t possible, how did they –

_The Gedo statue_.

Through the chakra disruption, Madara could make out _three_ signatures. Two were identical. Tobirama had left a shadow clone with his brother as a diversion and silently reached the statue before him. He must’ve placed a seal on the stone beast and thus when Madara absorbed it – 

He coughed out a mouthful of blood and fell to his knees. The seal wasn’t strong enough to seal _all_ of his chakra, if he just managed a few more signs he could-.

Madara growled when someone dropped down in front of him. He knew it was Hashirama without looking up. He wanted to lash out, but it was taking all of his power just to stay relatively upright.

“I’m sorry, Madara.”

He hated the damned Senju so much. _So much_.

He hated him for his brother’s death. He hated him for pulling him and his clan into his stupid village and frivolous peace. He hated him for being his best friend. But most of all, he hated him for having the _audacity_ to be _genuine_ in his apology. He could feel it in the Senju’s chakra. How _dare_ he!?

The raven only managed a steady stream of hisses, winces, and grunts as the seals ravaged his chakra network. The pain was mounting, and he couldn’t stop himself from grimacing and curling inward.

 _Move, move, move_.

His armour dropped to the ground with a sharp ‘thunk’ and was pushed aside. Hashirama leaned forward and reached for him. Madara’s hand caught his wrist in a loose grip but fell away a second later when the burst of energy ran dry.

Hashirama’s warm hand slipped under his mantle and pressed against his chest, just below his collar bone. The black marks crawling along his skin halted and began to converge there. They twisted and swirled around each other, beginning to take the shape of a different seal. A _permanent_ seal.

“No, no, _no_!” Madara whispered hoarsely, trying to yank himself away with the last of his strength. Suddenly, there was another body behind him and a hand on his upper back. _They were going to seal him, they were going to seal him, they were going to-_!

He tried to call upon his limbo clones, but the Rinnegan had been the first to go as his chakra levels plummeted.

 _Panic_. All at once there was nothing but panic.

Not just because his chakra was being sealed, but also because he was trapped between two bodies. It didn’t matter that he knew it was Hashirama and Tobirama. It didn’t matter that there was no killing-intent in their chakras or violence in their touch.

He thrashed.

_No, no, no, not again_.

If he had more coherence, he might’ve begun to beg.

“Madara stop!” Someone yelled at him, but he couldn’t make out who; or rather, he didn’t care.

He pushed at his remaining chakra to mold, to move, to do _something_. Liquid was dripping down his overheated body and he was suddenly aware that his eyes were closed. Every cell was on fire and the pain was so extreme that he could do nothing except _feel_. Were those ragged, broken gasps coming from him?

There was noise around him. Someone was talking, another yelling. People were moving around. He could just barely make out their unique signatures with the minuscule amount of chakra that remained.

As if a deadbolt was being turned, the seal slid into place and Madara gagged at the cold, hollow, empty feeling. A violent tremor clawed through him and he gasped, desperately trying to breathe around the thickening void in his chest. His face was wet, was he crying? His head pounded in tune with his racing heart and the air around him felt heavy and suffocating. His hair stuck to his neck and he wanted to tear it out. But he couldn’t move.

How could this be? He had made it so far only for everything to fall apart right before the grand finale. It _hurt_. It hurt more than watching the world go by while stuck in a dark cave. It hurt more than being shunned by the same people he had tried so hard to protect. He hated that Hashirama was here to witness him fail – _again_. Where was Zetsu? Why wasn’t he there saving him?

His eyes were wide open now, but he couldn’t see. He yanked at his limbs, trying to get them to move, but it was as if they were no longer there. He couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel anything but the void and the pain it brought.

There were four hands now on him. Two on his shoulders, presumably keeping him upright, one on his forehead, and the last on his chest, above his mantle now. The hands began to ease soothing chakra into his body. Were they healing him? No. No way, why would they do that?

His chakra levels were so low now that he couldn’t even sense the man directly in front of him.

He gagged again.

He felt so cold without the familiar warm rush of his life force pulsing through his system. Madara shivered and the last cord of tension in his body finally released. He slumped uselessly forward; his forehead knocked against solid armour.

_He lost_.

Everything he had worked so hard to forge was disappearing into nothing. The strength of his sorrow was only outmatched by the pain from the seal. He felt dead, he felt alone, he felt _lost_. It was a horrible feeling that he knew all too well. How long after leaving Konoha had his chest remained full of this feeling? Perhaps it never left. Maybe it had laid dormant, waiting for this moment to remerge.

All he had wanted was to stop the cycle of pain. He didn’t want any more children to have to go through what he did. Yet, in the end, all he accomplished was causing _more_ pain. He justified killing because the Tsukuyomi would bring everyone peace. But now, there was just the killing, _the war_ , there was no happy ending, no justification for his actions.

He had single-handedly drug five nations into a war and it was all for nothing. He had clawed his way into an era he didn’t belong and delivered upon them a battle that wasn’t theirs to fight.

_All for nothing_.

He should have stayed dead when Hashirama killed him at the valley. He shouldn’t have listened to Zetsu and that damned stone tablet. If he could do it over again, knowing this was the outcome, he would have ensured he had died before the village was built. It would have been better that way. Izuna would have been a superior clanhead and a respectable founder.

Ultimately, it seemed Madara wasn’t built for peace. He was a monster of war. A demon of destruction. In contrast, Hashirama was a conduit for peace and unity. Madara should have known better than to meddle in a world in which he did not belong.

Maybe Tajima had been right. Maybe he _was_ nothing more than a tool to be used for someone else’s purpose.

The intensity of the pain began to dip, and Madara was vaguely aware that he was losing consciousness.

_Please, just let me die_. 

He promised to stay dead this time. And surely, they were planning to kill him, right?

There was a head buried in his hair. It was warm and… _wet_? Just before passing out he heard a whispered vow, “rest. I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

x.X.x


	2. The Next Right Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama is forced to reflect on his lack of insight and left to wonder if he is being given a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt my heart. Hashirama is going to break when the complete truth is revealed - as he should after literally stabbing his friend in the back. It will get worse before it gets better.
> 
> Anyway, quick update because of all the wonderful comments I got on the last chapter! It really makes a difference. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

**The Next Right Thing**

Uchiha Madara was a man with many _many_ enemies. As such, Madara’s automatic reaction when waking up was to scan his surroundings. Even when he was at home. Even when he knew he was safe. So, when Madara awoke, he naturally tried to push chakra out to sense his surroundings.

This caused the fresh hole in his chest to gape, and he violently gagged. His eyes cracked open and he saw he was on his side and he flinched, thinking he spit up bile onto his hair. But a glance down revealed there was a bucket sitting beside the cot he was laid upon and his hair was pulled under him. His mild relief was cut short when a scorching wave of nausea washed over him, and he heaved. His lungs and throat burned, but he couldn’t stop. The gags rolled through him like harsh hits.

_What had they done to him_?

His eyes watered and tears slipped down his face to mix with the drool dripping down his chin. The flicker of bodies in his peripherals put him on guard and he reached for his Sharingan.

As if struck by lightning, pain exploded in his chest and branched out into every nerve. The agony was so intense that he could do nothing but hold on tightly to the cot as he jerked and kicked against it.

He was too much of a shinobi to cry out, but he couldn’t contain the straining, broken gasps of air that had replaced his breathing. It felt like no matter how much air he attempted to suck in, his lungs still weren’t getting enough. The side of the cot groaned beneath his fingers and began to bend.

It was too much; it was all just too much. The panic returned like a Katana cutting through his chest. He was hyperventilating and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of anyone watching him.

_He felt pathetic. Weak. Useless_.

How had he fallen so far?

“-Hashirama-sama, _now_!” Someone ordered, supposedly to someone else. But Madara could hear very little over his own – _hopefully dying_ – breaths. And, _god_ , did he hope that Hashirama was _not_ around. Even after everything he still felt the burning need to seek approval from that damned Senju tree. He didn’t want Hashirama to see him like this.

_Please just let me die_.

The drool and tears continued to dampen his face and he found he no longer had the strength to keep his head up over the bowl or to continue to mangle the metal cot. His agonizing kicking had thrown the thin blanket wrapped around him off and Madara was suddenly acutely aware that he was _freezing_.

The corners of his lips began to curl upwards tightly, and he realized with horror that he, _Uchiha Madara_ , was about to sob. The sound, as quiet and short as it had been, was overshadowed by a commotion around him. With his attention focused solely on not sobbing again, it took him several seconds to realize there were hands on his quivering back.

The low hum of a deep voice rolled over him, but he was in too much of a frenzied panic to make out any words. A light tug on his upper bicep brought Madara onto his back. This opened his lungs up slightly and he choked on a large gulp of air. Hands wrapped tightly around his ankles and pinned them to the cot to stop his withering. Several more forced down each shoulder and arm. Given his weakened state, this was enough to keep him relatively still.

The deep voice was speaking again, this time he could make out familiar syllables. His bangs were pulled out of his face and a palm flattened over his sweaty forehead. Another settled on his torso.

_Kill me, please, kill me_!

Healing chakra poured from the hands, but it didn’t have much of an effect. The comforting buzz of the technique was quickly washed away by the raging river of pain. Whatever was causing him pain was hurting him nearly as quickly as the jutsu was healing him.

“…stop…use…Madara!”

He recognized the words, but they didn’t process. His senses faded in and out as his body fought to maintain a decent oxygen level. There were far too many sensations for Madara to focus on and he was entirely too overwhelmed to calm down now. If he had more control he would have shouted for his end, but he wasn’t.

Another voice, some movement, another shout, a twist of pain from his freshly bruised limbs, and then the chakra pouring into him had changed temperature. His attention latched onto the refreshing feel like a leech. It wasn’t immediately washed away – like every other good thing in his life. It pooled into his skull and delicately soothed the tension in his face. His withering body began to still on its own and he felt like he was melting into the bed.

Like a touch-starved puppy, he tilted his brow back to press further into the hand. The fingers splayed to cover his aching eyes and Madara’s breath caught on another sob.

The pain gradually retreated to his chest. The refreshing chakra was all that was left and Madara felt okay with that. Within a minute the agony was completely gone. He wheezed around a satisfying mouthful of air.

Who knew a cot could be so comfortable? It was like he was floating on a cloud. His panic retreated with the pain and the emptiness took up the space in his chest. But that was okay for now. It wasn’t as heavy as the agony.

x.X.x

There were so many wounded shinobi spread across the battlefield. Between Hashirama and Tobirama, however, they were able to create enough clones to tackle the worst of the injuries while other medics tended to the rest. The shinobi with minor, but not debilitating injuries, had already begun back towards their villages and the uninjured were sifting through the dead bodies looking for missed survivors. Many more summons from various ninjas were helping move the corpses.

Hashirama had so many questions. He knew the what. Madara himself had explained everything, from Kaguya eating the divine fruit to the mixing of Uchiha and Senju DNA to awaken the Rinnegan. But what he didn’t know was what he really wanted to know. The _why_. The Madara he knew would laugh at such a ridiculously outlandish solution. 

When had the brilliant Uchiha become so… _desperate_? From the moment Madara called across the battlefield to him Hashirama knew there was something terribly wrong with his disposition. He had acted in a similar way during their fight at the valley of the end but more subtly. The fiery light that typically lit up his eyes when they fought was all but missing. He was callous, uncaring, and completely out of control. 

Alas, what made Hashirama’s heart sink into his stomach was the realization that, perhaps, the change in Madara had begun much earlier than that. He had been too busy to notice the raven start to withdraw from everyone until he had already left the village. Did something happen in the village? The thought was enough to make his eyes burn with unshed tears.

Perhaps, Hashirama had been brought back to atone for his mistakes and help Madara find his way. Orochimaru may have been the man to cast the Edo-Tensei, but Hashirama always knew that there was a larger purpose in everything. He was there for a reason and considering he was _still_ there after the war concluded meant he hadn’t completed his task.

If this truly was his second chance, he would ensure that he would do things right. And that began with figuring out what had changed with Madara since they last saw each other.

“Hashirama-sama!”

The brunet looked up from the shinobi he was bandaging to see one of the guards he had left with Madara running over.

“He’s awake!”

That was all it took to send him bolting off in the direction of the tent without a word. He thought he heard Tobirama call after him, but he didn’t stop or turn around.

Madara should _not_ be awake. By all accounts, his body should need several _days_ of rest and adjustment before finding consciousness. Nevertheless, he heard the heartbreaking noises his friend was making before he even entered the tent.

The sight was far worse than the sounds. Madara was clearly in an agonizing amount of pain. Hashirama had seen him stabbed, burning, flayed, battered, and much more, but he had never seen his friend wither quite like this.

For a long moment, Hashirama was frozen to the spot, watching his friend’s heaving back and the slight blue tint of his lips. Madara wasn’t just in pain, he was _petrified_. He was _panicking_. Hashirama had to fix this, he promised he would.

_He was – Madara was – was he-?_

“Anija,” Tobirama was at his side with his glowing hands on the Uchiha’s back. “he’s bleeding internally.” The younger Senju may not have been as good at medical ninjutsu as his brother, but he still knew enough to correctly gauge Madara’s condition.

Hashirama numbly leaned forward and pulled the raven onto his back. This, unfortunately, allowed more room for him to struggle against the pain. The older Senju’s brain finally caught up to the situation and he whisked his hair behind his shoulders – if he had a hair tie, he would have pulled it up.

“Pin him down!” Hashirama ordered to the surrounding guards. They did as instructed, and he placed a chakra-covered hand on Madara’s forehead and one over his heaving chest. Just as Tobirama explained, there were intensive internal lacerations and bleeding. But _how_? How had he become _more_ injured?

“He’s trying to use chakra!” Tobirama helpfully supplied from where he was pinning down Madara’s shoulder. Hashirama wasn’t a skilled enough sensor to detect the minuscule oscillations in Madara’s chakra, but surely Tobirama was able to.

_That must be it._

Given Madara’s panicked, unresponsive state, it seemed that he was trying to mold chakra subconsciously. Madara still _had_ chakra; however, it was locked away in the seal burned into his flesh. His efforts to use his chakra were causing it to churn violently and while the seal wouldn’t give, his body would.

“Madara! You need to stop! Stop trying to use chakra, Madara!” Hashirama’s pleas were met with nothing but continued cries, gasps, and frantic struggling. Instead of trying again, Hashirama turned to a guard not currently holding Madara down. “Are there any sedatives around?”

She nodded, “yes, but it is rather strong-.”

“Bring it here, please.” It was rather amazing how calm and focused the Senju became when necessary, even as his eyes watered and his chakra wavered with his heartache. He accepted the needle from her and immediately pressed it into Madara’s shoulder. The Uchiha’s lack of reaction was a testament to how far gone he truly was. Hashirama used the chakra he was pouring into Madara’s head to speed up his metabolism. The sooner the drug took effect the better.

Within seconds the sedative began to take hold and the strength in his withers began to fade quickly. The sedation should stop Madara from hurting himself further and help ease his panic. Hashirama had never seen the raven panic – or maybe Madara never let him see it.

Madara finally stilled and Hashirama helped his bleeding lungs fill with air. Now that the Uchiha was calm, Hashirama could do a proper sweep of his injuries. There were quite a few internal wounds, but they were shallow and wouldn’t take long to heal. Nevertheless, it must have been excruciating, especially if Madara didn’t realize what was happening. Hashirama bit his lip and tried not to go down that mental road.

Though, he couldn’t help but wonder.

“I’ll be alright here if you want to return to the wounded out there.”

Tobirama looked like he wanted to protest, but he thought better of it and offered a firm nod before making his exit. His sensory abilities would allow him to detect if something went wrong. Hashirama turned to the guards then, “you can let him go, thank you for your assistance.” They immediately followed his instruction and backed off.

The internal damage to Madara’s body was evenly distributed along his frame, particularly around large chakra nodes. As such, Hashirama intended to complete an in-depth sweep from head to toe. A full scan, inside and out. No cell would go unchecked. No more surprises.

Madara’s torso naturally came first. His internal organs were swiftly stabilized and confirmed to be functioning normally. Then he moved on to Madara’s left arm, and then the right. One hand remained on the raven’s forehead, offering soft soothing chakra to keep him calm while the other moved to complete the exam.

Something he noted as he went along was that Madara had a substantial number of scars. His back, he found, was quite heavily scarred and Hashirama wondered if he had ever seen Madara without a shirt on. And _why not_? Was Madara’s dislike of having someone stand behind him more based in reality than he thought?

This amount of scarring was surprising for someone as _skilled_ as Madara. Even when they were children, he was one of the best shinobi in their class. So, how did he suffer so much damage? Hashirama could date the scars, and some were hardly a year old. The newest one was the scar over his heart from their fight at the valley of the end. That aged Madara at around thirty and his body had been restored exactly as it had been. Where had Madara gone after leaving the village? Who hurt him?

His thoughts were derailed when he caught sight of half-lidded eyes watching him and he stilled. Deep, dark eyes that were very nearly black. Hashirama knew that they were not truly black, however, but the last aftermath of red. It had been a long time since he had been close enough to see the slight difference.

 _Too long_.

As they quietly considered each other, Hashirama got the impression that Madara was trying to communicate something but couldn’t because of the sedative – or because he didn’t know the right way. The Senju was curious and wanted to prompt him to speak, but he also didn’t want to have that conversation surrounded by unfamiliar – _angry_ – shinobi.

_Later then_. _Preferably when Madara was not drugged up_.

“I’m just healing you, that’s all.” He told his old friend softly. As if Madara had been waiting to hear just that, he closed his eyes and heaved a slightly deeper breath in response. With that settled, Hashirama went back to looking over his friend. He sent chakra down each leg and combed through every cell as he went.

With nothing but medical intentions, Hashirama also let his chakra softly sweep over Madara’s genitals. There was no concerning damage, however, Hashirama was _horrified_ to find several jagged _deep_ scars on his penis, testicles, and buttocks. He sucked in a breath and slowly let it out to calm himself.

 _Who-how-when_?!

In all his years as a medical ninja, he had never – Hashirama paused to take a few more deep soothing breaths and then automatically began to date the scars. There was a fairly new one along the line of his Orion’s belt, but the ones on his penis were fairly old. _Decades_ old.

_Not now_.

Now was not the right time to think about this and it certainly would not do anyone any good. Besides, it really wasn’t any of his business. Maybe Madara had been a really clumsy kid or something. It could be nothing.

Hashirama continued to repeat his new mantra to himself every time he found a new scar.

_It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing._

Eventually, Hashirama completed the scan and he allowed the chakra in his hands to fade out. He pulled his gaze up to Madara’s face. The Uchiha’s eyes were still closed and the muscles in his face lax.

Hashirama’s sore heart ached. He didn’t recall ever seeing Madara look so peaceful. _Why_? Why was this the first time? Why had he never questioned this before? Why did it take a chemical intervention to achieve?

The bags under Madara’s eyes were sharp and slightly tinted blue. He didn’t have the bags when they were kids. Why were they there now? When did they first appear? Why had Hashirama not noticed?

The brunet sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was becoming clear that Hashirama had failed to do a lot of things the first time around. But now that he had a second chance, he would be sure to do right by himself and his friend. Konoha was in good hands, he wasn’t needed as a leader anymore and so he would do what he should have done decades ago and _pay attention_.

How had this happened? When did Madara start planning this? Who had helped him?

A wave of exhaustion washed over the Senju and he quietly lowered himself to the floor with a sigh. So many questions and whether Madara wanted to talk or not, Hashirama was due some answers. They all were. But that would come with time. Right now, they needed to get everyone back to Konoha and find a secure place to house the fallen Uchiha.

Hashirama had made it _very_ clear that Madara would be returning to the village alive. No one, not even Tobirama dared to question him. Not while surrounded by the remnants of deep forest emergence anyway. 

_Although…_

Maybe…maybe Konoha wasn’t the right place to go. Not for the long term. Maybe after Madara had been stabilized, he and Hashirama could go somewhere. Anywhere. Hashirama could just let Madara wander through the forest and quietly follow.

Whatever they ended up doing and wherever they ended up going, Hashirama knew that he would not leave his friend’s side. Not again.

If that meant leaving the village, Hashirama would go with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and a kudos!
> 
> I have a question - or several: how prejudice do you think Tobirama really was? Is he truly indirectly responsible for the Uchiha clan massacre? Did he deliberately isolate the Uchiha from the rest of the village? Or was he blinded by his biases? Will he truly come to repent when the horrors his students caused are revealed?


	3. Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path to the truth is excruciating. And like usual, Madara has to bear the burden alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments are giving me life!  
> Thank you all so much for your insights!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr! @the-founders
> 
> A new player is introduced in this chapter, someone who plays a key role in Madara's past.

**Sacrifices**

The sedative Hashirama had given Madara was indeed strong.

Even with Madara’s finely tuned immune system and heightened metabolism, the single dosage kept him balanced on the sharp edge of consciousness well into the afternoon.

Hashirama had taken up a lotus pose and had remained nearly motionless by his side since that morning while his wood clones tended to the wounded. He did not ask the guards to leave despite wanting them to. That would look… _suspicious_ , and it was painfully clear no one else was feeling like offering Madara the same mercy he had.

However, Hashirama’s title as the God of Shinobi was not baseless and he would ruffle his feathers if the need arose.

Tsunade, the current Hokage, was among the first to return to the village. She planned to head the medical operation there and help coordinate the return of their fallen. Although, she did make it clear before she left that he and Madara were to return to the village at some point. Her sharp tone was made all the more piercing by Tobirama’s glare over her shoulder. It wasn’t a suggestion and Hashirama expected nothing less.

Hashirama would return to Konoha, and he would bring Madara. But only because he didn’t want Konoha shinobi tearing fire country apart looking for him.

And also, to satiate his curiosity.

He had briefly seen the village before Tobirama teleported them to the battlefield. It was much bigger than he remembered, and he had so many questions about how things had progressed.

Whether he would be regarded kindly after he so viciously declared his protection over the _living_ Madara Uchiha was another thing entirely. If the interrogation unit was anything like it had been in his time, they would likely use a Yamanaka technique to see Madara’s memories. It would be in everyone’s best interest to know who had helped the raven achieve his plans. It certainly was not just him and Obito.

Despite Hashirama’s many attempts to keep his mind clear, his thoughts kept wandering to the scars on Madara’s body. He scolded himself for it every time and snapped his mind back to his center. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew that following that train of thought would be incredibly painful and he _wasn’t ready_ for that. And he also knew that the answers he would need to paint a complete picture were not available at that time. Making it useless to worry over the old wounds now.

_Yet_ …

Hashirama opened his eyes and gazed over at his sleeping friend. The blanket had been readjusted over his frame but there was still a slight tremor in his limbs. The mantle Madara wore was thin and breathable – made for battle – and as such, it clung to his torso and loosened around his joints, allowing for mobility. Hashirama may have never seen Madara shirtless, but he had known he had a powerful build. He felt it in his punches and in the effortless way he danced and commanded any battlefield with his strength.

Even so, Madara looked _thicker_. Not with fat, but with muscle.

It was a strange thing to notice, especially given the circumstances, but Hashirama found himself trying to remember if he’d ever seen Madara’s arms above his wrists. Even during scorching summers in the village, Madara had worn nothing less than a full mantle and baggy pants.

 _Why_?

It wasn’t an Uchiha thing. He’d seen many Uchiha at the onsen and many more shedding their shirts on particularly hot days.

 _So why_?

Hashirama sighed to himself and leaned forward to rest his forehead on his upturned palm. It was just one unanswered question after another. Perhaps he should be writing them down, so he didn’t forget anything.

“Hashirama-sama,”

The brunet straightened to find the same female guard who’d given him the sedative looking at him from the doorway.

“The last of the wounded are getting ready to head back to their own villages. It might be best for you and...your ward to begin towards Konoha now.”

She was trying to be polite. Hashirama appreciated it.

“Yes. That is probably for the best.” He couldn’t put it off forever. The Senju stood and looked through the eyes of his wood clones until he located his brother. A clone requested that Tobirama send him and Madara back to Konoha with the hirashin.

Walking back to Konoha with Madara would be risky. Many _many_ people wanted him dead and Hashirama wasn’t known for his _gentle_ techniques. Besides, Madara – or at least the Madara he knew – would hate to be seen on someone’s back. Even if he wasn’t awake and likely would never know, Hashirama felt the urge to consider his friend’s pride.

Tobirama appeared through the doorway, looking as stoic and indifferent as ever. “Elder brother, ready to return?”

Hashirama nodded and easily lifted Madara’s body into his arms.

“You will be teleported to the Hokage mountain. Remember that Tsunade has requested to see you upon your arrival.”

“You aren’t coming too?”

“No. The hirashin is too useful a tool for transporting bodies. I’ll be helping with that.”

“Don’t overextend yourself, brother.”

Tobirama nodded and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. There was a flash of light and then Konoha materialized in front of him.

Hashirama took a moment to drink in the sight and tried to ignore how the towering walls along the borders made Konoha look like a cage. With a churning stomach, he swiftly made his way towards the Hokage tower. The same location he had watched over the village from.

_Oh, how things changed._

As quiet as the wind, he slipped into his old office through an open window. A _deliberately_ open window most likely.

There was a small futon laid on the floor by the wall, and Hashirama approached it. It had clearly been put there for Madara, but, the Senju felt reluctant to put him down. With his old friend in his arms, with his very real weight and heat obvious, his resolve was stronger.

At the moment, it felt like he was one man against the world. But with Madara with him, the world didn’t seem so tough. _How ironic_. Did Madara have this strong of an effect on him in his first life?

Hashirama kneeled, setting the Uchiha down and straightening his blanket. He lightly brushed his bangs back to reveal Madara’s whole face and then leaned back on his haunches. The sedative should release its hold soon, but whether or not Madara would wake up when it did was up to his body. Adjusting to a chakra seal wasn’t a painless process and Madara’s body had been fighting a battle of its own since it was sealed.

Alas, there was little Hashirama and his powerful medical ninjutsu could do. He couldn’t alter Madara’s body to accommodate the changes, that was something it had to do on its own.

_It seemed Hashirama had been unable to do a lot of things for his friend_.

Hashirama didn’t feel the need to look around and reminisce. The office, and indeed, _being Hokage_ , lost its appeal when Madara left _. His co-founder. His best friend_. Instead, he took up his previous meditative position and continued his battle to quiet his mind. It was truly fruitless, but he was nothing if not persistent.

He made no attempt to hide his chakra signature knowing that any sensors within Konoha would know he was there. Someone would surely alert Tsunade.

It hardly took five minutes.

The clicking of heels was the first sign that Tsunade was approaching. Hashirama smiled, despite the situation, it was so nice to see his precious granddaughter all grown up.

The office door swung open and the blonde strolled it, closing the door behind her. Brown met brown and Hashirama’s heart ached at the suspicion and caution in her gaze. _The fear_.

“Tsuna…” Hashirama breathed softly, gazing at her over his shoulder.

“Why?”

Hashirama closed his eyes and slowly straightened to his full height. He didn’t turn to her. He kept his head bowed and his eyes closed as he asked, “why what?”

“Why is _he_ still alive?!” She snapped, throwing a hand towards Madara, “that bastard killed hundreds of shinobi, many from the village _you_ created, and yet you-!”

“That’s enough!” He turned to her then and leveled a gaze at her that demanded her respect. Tsunade glared angrily in return, her fists clenched at her side.

“If you aren’t going to have him pay for his crimes, then what are you going to do?”

“First and foremost,” Hashirama began, settling his chakra down, “I think we would all like to know _why_. In addition to _who_.” He didn’t need to elaborate. “Questions only Madara can answer.”

“I doubt he will be willing to talk.” Tsunade’s glare eased up, but she kept her distance and her voice strong.

“I doubt that as well. Which is why I think it would be best to look at his memories directly.” 

Tsunade frowned, “you want me to send one of my shinobi into that deranged psychopath’s mind? He is an expert at genjutsu and he-.”

“Has no chakra.” No matter how angry and vengeful Tsunade or the villagers were, she knew he was right. “I understand it is still a daunting task and may take a while. But there could be others out there who worked with Madara and intend to push the same agenda. It is in the village’s best interest to check.”

That was enough. The fire wavered in her eyes and Tsunade folded her arms over her bandaged chest in a silent act of defiance. “I will assign a Yamanaka to this case. _However_ ,” she initiated eye contact as she continued, “in exchange for allowing Madara to _live_ , _you_ will stay out of the process.”

Hashirama immediately bristled and protested, “no, that-.”

“ _and_ , he will be filtered through Ibiki’s team first.”

The brunet felt a headache coming on. “Who is that?”

“He is the leader of the Konoha Torture and Interrogation Force.”

_No, that was a migraine._

“What exactly do you hope to accompli-?!”

“They utilize a technique that destroys any and all mental barriers in one’s mind. This is necessary for the memory extraction process.”

Hashirama was well versed in the effects of the technique she spoke of. It wasn’t as harmless as it might have sounded. He had seen men break under the strain of losing their mental walls. The technique caused everything including previous trauma, suppressed memories, and forgotten sorrows to flood forth. Everything that an individual carefully hid behind mental barriers would be brought to their mind’s eye – all at once.

It was excruciating.

And yet, Hashirama could reluctantly concede that it was necessary. Madara was a powerful shinobi and an expert in mind-altering techniques related to the Sharingan. There was no doubt in his mind that Madara locked away a lot behind steel doors and they would need to be broken down to get their answers. A feat unachievable by anything less cruel.

_He just didn’t like it_. _Hadn’t Madara been through enough_? _Hadn’t they all_?

Hashirama looked down at his friend and tried not to think about the way he previously withered under the weight of his own panic and despair. Maybe it was a good thing Tsunade was forbidding him from attending the sessions to come.

“When?”

“Now.”

Hashirama looked back at his granddaughter and fought the urge to immediately protest. Had she already prepared for this? “Now?”

“Yes, _now_. Ibiki is waiting down at TIU. The sooner we get this over with the sooner you and _he_ can disappear.” Her tone was cold and her eyes nearly indifferent if it weren’t for her anger.

Hashirama felt a sharp pain stab through his heart and averted his gaze. He masked the tears building in his eyes by turning around and swiftly bending to pick the Uchiha up. The raven made a vague noise of protest, but it was hardly coherent. Hashirama felt all kinds of emotions attack him all at once.

_He probably deserved that. But it still hurt._

Whether or not he was making the right choice was not something he wondered. He _felt it_ , he knew that he was. However, he was now wondering if his second chance was also his punishment. For his precious Tsuna to so blatantly disregard him and admit she wanted him to _leave_ after he had been dead for years was agonizing. He wanted to hug her and have her hug him back. He wanted to ask her about her life over tea and reminisce about his life. But that didn’t seem likely to ever happen again. Not if Tsunade’s behaviour was anything to go by.

Hashirama turned and followed his granddaughter’s back as she silently led him to the basement of the Hokage tower where they both knew a secret TIU cell was. It was something like walking to his death, despite not being the one about to be ravaged by a depraved mind technique.

They didn’t pass a single soul on the way.

Hashirama’s hands tightened around Madara’s lower back and knees when they reached the heavy steel door. He felt nauseous as he crossed the threshold into the unit.

_It was necessary. It was necessary. It was necessary._

A long hallway preceded the observation room which overlooked a restraint stretcher already waiting in the center of the interrogation room. There was only one person in the cold, stone _cage_. The man had to be Ibiki.

The sharp snap of the man’s dark eyes as they flickered over to Hashirama almost made the Senju flinch. Before any greetings could be exchanged, Ibiki’s gaze fell on Madara.

“So, here he is. The ghost of the Uchiha himself.” The man sounded almost giddy. That immediately put Hashirama on edge. An interrogator who enjoyed what he did was entirely unethical.

Tsunade’s closed-off stance and hard gaze, however, told Hashirama that she would not budge from her intentions. The brunet chewed his lip and slowly walked over to the stretcher.

“He’s still sedated, and he cannot use any chakra.” Hashirama supplied to the man whose presence felt darker than Madara’s ever had.

Ibiki nodded and Tsunade spoke up, “what are we looking at time-wise?”

“I’d say a couple of hours, but you never know with Sharingan users.”

“Shizune will check-in in a few hours. Let’s go,” Tsunade said to Hashirama as she headed for the doorway.

The brunet wanted to protest. Wanted to demand that he be allowed to stay to ensure his friend would be okay. It was all happening so fast. But, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

_It was necessary. It was necessary. It was necessary._

He was just wanted to take Madara and run. Run from everything.

Hashirama left the TIU, forcing himself not to look back.

x.X.x

There was a particular feeling that accompanied mind-altering techniques.

It was similar to the feeling of healing chakra only instead of soothing, it burned everything it touched. The brain had its own intricate chakra network and was very particular about letting other chakra signatures in. Especially hostile ones.

There were ways to reduce the pain that accompanied such techniques, but whoever was breaching his mind seemed to be intent on making the invasion as painful and drawn out as possible. The thicker the branches of chakra being poured into his brain, the harder the brain would resist.

Madara was quick to realize that the technique being used had locked his consciousness within his mind. That meant it was probably some type of genjutsu.

In the past, he might have fought, turned the genjutsu around, and destroyed whoever dared to challenge him. Now, he just watched tiredly as the strange chakra seeped deeper into his subconscious.

It was violating. But Madara had trained his four younger siblings in genjutsu and allowed them to cast upon him countless times. And that wasn’t counting the times that Zetsu had assaulted his psyche. The feeling was strangely nostalgic. Even the burn of poorly controlled chakra threads – purposeful or otherwise.

The chakra wasn’t impatiently diving through his consciousness, instead, it was gradually spreading to encase his mind in a chakra bubble. This told Madara that the person knew what they were doing. The bubble would prevent the genjutsu from being flipped, something Madara really had no desire to do, even if he still had enough chakra. A professional then, and likely from Konoha.

The world around him shifted and he suddenly felt his body again. Though now he was kneeling, and his hands were tied behind his back. His mind’s eye stayed dark and unmoving, was this _not_ a genjutsu? No, it had to be.

A door creaked open behind him and he heard himself gasp. The familiarity of the situation was startling and Madara struggled not to call upon his chakra to end the hallucination.

“Madara,” a voice called to him from behind. A _very_ familiar voice. A shiver rolled through the Uchiha and the man chuckled. “Is that excitement I see?”

The man was purposely misunderstanding his body language – like he always did.

Wait.

_Like he always did? How did he know that?_

He heard the person walk around to stand in front of him. Madara blinked several times but the world did not clear up. The sensations arising from the hallucination were vague at best and he couldn’t feel if there was something over his eyes or if his eyes were even there to begin with.

“Has the silence taken your manners?” The man’s voice now had a sharp undertone that made Madara flinch. Why was he flinching? He hadn’t even been touched yet. What kind of genjutsu was this?

“No,” the raven heard himself say. Why was his voice so small? And high-pitched? “Butsuma-sama.”

The moment the name slipped out of his younger self’s mouth everything came crashing down. This wasn’t a hallucination – it was a _memory_.

Genjutsu couldn’t do this.

The first mental barrier had broken and Madara _remembered_.

The panic Madara had felt in the tent came back ten-fold and he desperately clawed at his chakra, but he couldn’t reach it, he was still locked in his mind, he had no control over his body. 

Realizing he had no faculties to break the hold, he tried to close his mind’s eye. It was at that moment that Butsuma ripped the blindfold from his face.

_It was as if he was there again._

The vague sensations from before were suddenly so sharp that he couldn’t help but tremble against the overwhelming onslaught.

Madara did not look up to meet Butsuma’s gaze – he knew better.

_He knew better_.

Somewhere amidst the panic, Madara realized what was being done. They were flattening his mental plain. Taking down the strongholds he had painstakingly built so they could see what was inside.

The technique was brutal, but it was _temporary_. He had never befallen it before, but he knew men who had. Even those who had been shattered eventually snapped back. He would be okay, _eventually_.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay_.

“Do you remember why you were left alone the last 24 hours?” Butsuma’s voice was horribly condescending. The bastard was toying with him and it almost hurt as much watching the second time as it had in real-time.

“Because I wouldn’t listen.” The fear his younger self was feeling was suffocating. It compressed his lungs from the inside, making it hard to breathe. Had he really been reduced to this?

“ _Exactly_. Now, what would Tajima think if I told him you weren’t doing what you were supposed to?”

The mention of his father caused another flinch and Madara wanted to roar in frustration, but he could do nothing but watch. He wanted to jump into the memory, take his younger self, and run. Run and _never_ look back.

“If you don’t intend to behave, then perhaps I will send for one of your brothers next time.” It was common for Butsuma to use his brothers against him.

He remembered that’s how Butsuma got him there in the first place.

_Be a good boy and no one else will be hurt_.

Madara was a good brother.

“No! I’ll do it. Please. Please, don’t touch them, Butsuma-sama.” Madara’s voice cracked and the tears burned as they slide down his face. “Please. I’ll do it.”

What good were his sacrifices now that he knew his brothers would die? What was the point? To please his father? He hated the bastard and every one of the Uchiha clan elders. His hate for them was only second to his hate for Butsuma.

A hand sunk into his hair and nails scraped against his scalp. His head was tilted back until his eyes met the Senju clanhead’s. A sadistic smirk danced on the man’s face.

“Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions!
> 
> Mito and Hashirama's marriage - political? Did it morph into true love? Could Hashirama truly love her when his best friend was gone? Did Mito have any hope of understanding the enigma that is Hashirama Senju?


	4. Into The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Suicidal Ideations
> 
> The depth of Madara's pain nearly dissolves him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me so much trouble, and I am still not completely happy with it. Ugh, but they can't all be easy to write, right?
> 
> This chapter sets up so much for the future and every little detail is important for later. Please let me know if it feels rushed or if something doesn't seem right.

**Into the Unknown**

Tiredly, Ibiki completed a few final sweeps of the raw expanse that now was Madara’s mind to ensure he hadn’t missed anything before ending the jutsu. His entire body ached, his head in particular throbbed in time with his heart.

Ibiki had known that breaking down Madara’s mental barriers was going to be difficult. What he hadn’t expected was how far he had underestimated the truth. It took _ten hours_ of grueling work that very nearly drove him to complete chakra exhaustion. And he knew that he couldn’t stop, or the barriers would start to rebuild again. They _all_ needed to be torn down for the effect to be permanent.

He had never encountered a case like this. In fact, Ibiki would admit that it was the most challenging case he had _ever seen_. And despite the decades of experience he had under his belt, he almost wasn’t able to successfully expose Madara’s psyche.

What was truly troubling was _why_ it was so challenging. It wasn’t difficult because Madara was fighting him, no, Madara wasn’t fighting _him_ at all. It was difficult because Madara’s mind had been fortified with _literal_ mental seals. As in, someone had reached into Madara’s mind and placed chakra seals on certain memories. Upon seeing them, Ibiki almost pulled out to inform the Hokage of the new developments. But the moment he began to relent, the barriers began to rebuild _stronger_.

The man rolled his shoulders and then his neck. The Hokage was not going to like what he had to say. 

Speaking of – “Ibiki.”

Of course, after Shizune’s check-in, Tsunade had promptly sent a clone to watch over the proceedings – just in case.

“It is complete.” He confirmed, nodding at the clone, who relayed the information to the original Tsunade and then disappeared with a poof. Ibiki gave the unconscious Uchiha one last look and then retreated to the observation room. He somehow knew that this was only the beginning of something big.

x.X.x

After leaving the Torture and Interrogation Unit, Tsunade had steered Hashirama in the direction of the hospital with a demand to ‘make yourself useful'. She had witnessed the pain flash across his face but at the moment she couldn’t be bothered to care. He needed a distraction and the wounded needed medical attention.

As much as she had cherished the short amount of time she had with her grandfather, the man she now saw was not the man she thought he was. And she wasn’t the only one. He was welcomed into the hospital easily and his efforts were greatly appreciated as he saved life after life without hesitation. However, the looks directed at his back spoke of confusion, anger, and _betrayal_.

How could the first Hokage, the man who helped create Konoha, stand beside the man who tried to destroy the world? Few knew the full extent of what Madara had been trying to do, but they did know that it would have altered the world indefinitely. _So why was Hashirama protecting him_?

It left the air around him tense and shinobi and civilians alike skeptical. Tsunade left him under the supervision of a charge nurse while she dealt with other things – like _counting the deceased_.

Despite Tsunade’s icy regard, he was happy to help. Hashirama’s chakra reserves were nearly endless, even after spending the last day healing the more seriously wounded. He was able to clear out several _wards_ of the hospital by the time the sun began to set. Only the more complicated cases remained.

Hashirama yawned and stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He hadn’t slept or eaten since he had been resurrected and he was beginning to feel the effects of it. Even he was a slave to the body's needs.

He hadn’t heard anything from or even seen Tsunade since she had dropped him off. It wasn’t too concerning considering she was keeping him out of the process; however, his anxiety was ever-present.

Ibiki said he would need a couple of hours and it had definitely been longer than that. Hashirama wasn’t expecting to be kept in the loop, but he figured he would be allowed to see Madara afterward. Did they jump right into retrieving his memories? _Could they_? Wouldn’t the Uchiha need time to recover?

Hashirama desperately wanted to see his friend and confirm that he was okay. He also felt like he should trust Tsunade and her comrades.

She wouldn’t have Madara killed behind his back, would she? He doubted it, but if she did, he would do what he had done the first time.

He would follow Madara anywhere.

A sharp wind slammed open a window to his right. Several people yelped and jolted at the sound. Hashirama’s hair billowed around him as the wind seemed to seek him out.

_Something is wrong. Something is wrong._

Without missing a beat, Hashirama jumped out of the open window and sprinted for the Hokage tower. That voice had never been wrong before.

x.X.x

Ibiki slid down into a chair behind the observation room desk as he waited for the real Hokage to make her appearance. A stiff drink and a long night’s sleep were in order. What time was it anyway?

Tsunade must have been in the building because she arrived within a few minutes.

She looked just as tired as he was. Nevertheless, she walked with her head held high as she approached quietly. Her gaze flickered over to the restrained and unconscious Madara Uchiha laid out on the stretcher.

“How did it go?” She began, sitting in a chair opposite him, “that took much longer than expected.”

“Yes, it did,” he agreed at length. “And you aren’t going to like why.”

Tsunade frowned and leaned back in her chair. “Did he fight you?”

“No, actually, he didn’t do anything. At least, nothing to prevent me from breaking him down.”

This clearly surprised the blonde and she glanced over at the Uchiha. “He didn’t fight. At all?”

Ibiki shook his head, “I don’t mean that he did _nothing_ , he fought against the effects of what I was doing, but he never made an attempt to get me to stop. But someone else did. Indirectly.”

“What do you mean? Someone interfered?”

“There were chakra seals on certain mental barriers in Madara’s mind.” Ibiki’s face crinkled in disgust and confusion. “The likes of which I have never seen. Someone had deliberately tried to keep everyone, including Madara, from accessing those memories.”

Tsunade looked horrified, “how is that even possible? To lock someone’s memories away from themself?”

“It’s a forbidden technique, I believe,” Ibiki rubbed the bridge of his nose to try and soothe his headache, “it’s the closest thing available to wiping someone’s memories. We don’t use the technique here, it’s too unstable.”

“So, someone wanted Madara to forget something.” Tsunade wasn’t able to conjure the same anger from before. “What was it? What were the memories?”

“That, I don’t know. I can’t see what is behind the barriers, not with the technique I was using. And I wouldn’t want to try right now. As exhausting as it was for me, it would have been more so for him. If we want his mind intact by the end of this, we need to give him time to recover.”

Tsunade’s response was swallowed by the piercing alarm of Madara’s vitals monitor.

His heart had stopped beating.

x.X.x

The crystal-clear waters of the Naka river glistened softly in the morning light. The water gently swayed with the current and elegantly danced around the many rocks in its path.

_It was so calm, how was it always so calm?_

Madara sat stiffly on the stones at the edge, his knees drawn up to his chest. He quietly watched leaves swirl across the top of the river and slowly succumb to the depths. It was such a gentle death, almost loving in nature.

It was mesmerizing. The deaths of humans were so devastating and brutal, yet mother nature moved through the life cycle so effortlessly that the line between life and death blurred – if it existed at all.

Maybe nature drove Hashirama to want peace so badly. After all, he was far more attached to the earth than Madara was. Maybe Hashirama just wanted humans to behave more like the planet they lived on. The Earth was ancient and had to know the right way to be, right? Madara would think so.

The air seemed to hum warmly at the thought of his old friend, but he ignored it. That happened sometimes when he was surrounded by nature.

If they were trying to speak to him, he wasn’t listening.

He must have been sitting there for hours, but the sun never moved. No chakra signatures approached. No animals rustled about. The only company the Uchiha had was the river and the cool breeze that stroked his hair.

He had realized upon arriving that there was a specific reason he was there, but he didn’t feel pressed to think about it. It sat in his stomach like a heavy rock, unmoving and patiently waiting for when he was ready. But he wasn’t, so he continued to silently watch the scene in front of him.

Everything was still so calm. As if it was unaware of the chaotic vortex of destruction that sat idly by. Or maybe the Earth wasn’t afraid of him. It seemed more likely that the Earth hated him. After all, he was fire and fire _destroyed_.

The dark blue yukata he wore was warm, maybe a little too warm, but he couldn’t be bothered to move. The wind whispered across his ears, reminding him that it was still patiently waiting. Madara was undeterred and continued to ignore the obvious shadow looming over him. All the while, the sun never stopped shining down on him, keeping the shadow at bay.

At some point, Madara’s eyes slid closed and he buried his nose a little deeper into his knees. He didn’t want to feel anymore, he just wanted to stay right where he was. Forever. The Uchiha didn’t feel safe anywhere, but he was about as close as he’d ever been.

How many times had he considered allowing himself to succumb to the water just as the leaves did? If he punctured his lungs first his body would never surface. No one would ever know, no one would ever find him. Truly, he would become one with the Naka.

_Wouldn’t that be nice?_

“Madara?”

The Uchiha offered no reaction save for the tightening of his brow. Couldn’t he have a few more minutes alone? The stone in his stomach seemed to twitch, reminding him that there was something very important that he needed to do. It was the _what_ that Madara was scared of.

“Madara? Can you hear me?”

The voice was disgustingly soft and void of emotion. It almost reminded him of his mother. Slowly, he nodded his head against his knees. Maybe she would go away now and leave him be.

As usual, the Universe seemed to be against him and the wind caressed his hair as if apologizing.

The woman approached, but she kept her distance. It was a small comfort to the raven.

“My name is Ino Yamanaka. I am here under Tsunade-sama’s orders.” After a moment, she added, “do you understand?” There was an underlying hardness to her voice. Something Madara was used to hearing – no one _really_ wanted to be around him.

Finally, Madara opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at the woman. She was staring down at him with unreadable baby blue eyes. Her long blond hair was pulled into a pony and she was wearing shinobi clothes. He sighed through his nose; her determination was clear in her stance. He turned his eyes back to the water and asked, “what do you want?” His voice was hoarse, and his throat felt scratchy.

There was a thoughtful pause before she responded.

Ino took a step closer, “Just to talk. How old are you?”

There was something else in her voice now, something Madara felt unmotivated to decipher – so he didn’t. “Eleven.”

He didn’t look to see what her reaction might be. _He was eleven_ , that was what the sun had told him with her delicate kisses. Madara didn’t feel compelled to elaborate that he had over a centuries worth of memories. That he had lived an entire life only to end up more or less right back where he started. Or that he might have recognized her from the battlefield his older past self had fought on.

Thinking too much made his heartache and he didn’t know if he could handle any more pain.

Ino shifted again and he had to watch with surprise as she sat down beside him and crossed her legs. Few people had the guts to sit so close to him. Who was this woman? Why was she here? She met his gaze and he had to quickly look away. It was in her eyes that he saw _compassion_ , something that had rarely – if ever – been directed at him. It was a small amount, but it was enough to make his eyes burn. He didn’t want to cry, so he nuzzled his face into his knees again and focused on breathing.

“I just want to know why.” Ino said softly, looking up at the sky. “Who are you? Really?”

The Uchiha bristled slightly and a sharp wind reminded him that it was there. _That it was okay_. “That depends who you ask.” Madara had been called many things in his life. Almost everything but worthy.

“Really? What do people say?”

With the sun’s encouragement, he lifted his head slightly and gave in to the pull of his heart to _let it out_. “My clan calls me a tool to be used as they see fit. On the battlefield, I am called a monster. My mother called me a demon.” His eyebrows curled upward at the mention of his mother. _It had been a long time_.

“Why…-why would your mother call you that?” Ino seemed genuinely confused and maybe a little… _concerned_?

“I took Tajima’s attention away from her. She thinks I did so on purpose.”

“I..I don’t understand. Isn’t your father _supposed_ to pay attention to you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not in the way that he did.” Madara’s voice had become almost as soft as the wind. It felt bittersweet to finally air some of his pain before he inevitably drove her away with his curse. Everyone left eventually, he had come to expect it.

“What does that mean, Madara? Did he hurt you?”

“Everyone hurts me.”

A sudden wind blew harshly between them. Ino’s hair mixed with his for a second before she pulled it over her shoulder. Thick cloud’s cut through the sun’s rays, casting uneven light across the once serene landscape.

“Is that why you’re here?” Madara demanded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and unwell, "to hurt me?" His voice cracked and he couldn’t look at her.

“Madara-,” Ino tried to take back control of the conversation, but the boy had plunged into a downward spiral. The hair-pin trigger had been pulled. Like water behind a dam, emotion burst forth.

“I just wanted to protect them!” He cried into the rushing wind. “I just wanted to keep them _safe_. I never wanted any of _this_ ; I never wanted a _war_.” Tears began to pour down his face and the rock in his stomach began to lift ever so slightly. Ino recognized immediately that he was giving her reasons not to hurt him. He was trying to explain his adult actions in the only way his eleven-year-old brain knew how. One thing was starkly clear to her now, he was remorseful.

“But no matter what I did, no matter how much I sacrificed, everyone turned their backs on me anyway. _Everyone_!” He seemed to be speaking less to Ino and more to the Universe as a whole now. A sharp clap of thunder was his response.

Ino watched as the world began to rage around them. They were, after all, in Madara’s mind. It made sense that the scene would change as his mental state did. If she didn’t pull out of his mind she could get hurt – _but_ … She looked at him. _Really_ looked at him.

This was Madara Uchiha, the man who had killed her father and fellow shinobi. The man who almost brought the world to its knees. Yet, she knew that the Madara she saw right in front of her, the crying boy who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, was the true Madara. He was scared, alone, and _hurting_.

Ino hadn’t backed down when she faced him on the battlefield and she sure as hell wouldn’t now. Against her better judgment and training, Ino reached forward and firmly placed a hand on the Uchiha’s shoulder.

Madara immediately tensed at the touch and turned to her. His eyes were blown wide, exposing the raw agony that had blossomed in his chest. He wasn’t the bloodthirsty warlord that she had been told he was. This was a soul deeply damaged and she knew – _she knew_ – that there was far more to his story than anyone knew.

“I just,” his shoulder relaxed slightly under her hand and she shifted to face him fully. “ _I just want to be loved_.” Ino felt tears build in her own eyes as she brought the boy to her chest. Her expectations for this encounter had been blown away with the wind and replaced with astonishment and confusion.

If she hadn’t witnessed his breakdown for herself, she might not have believed it. Madara’s pain was at a level she had never seen before. What happened to him? Who did this? Who hurt him? The boy clutching desperately to her clothes was not capable of the destruction she saw during the war. No, he had been driven to that point by someone else. And she was willing to bet it was the same person who put the seals on his mind.

In the wake of the pain brought forth from behind the mental barriers, Madara had regressed to the point where he last felt the safest. Apparently, that was when he was eleven and sitting at the Naka river. But he should still remember everything, just through the eyes of an eleven-year-old rather than an adult. It was a defense mechanism designed to keep him from shattering completely. As it was the man was mentally in pieces. The piece she held in her arms was the largest one. The most _coherent_ one, but no less broken.

“I want to help,” Ino offered softly against the top of his head. He stiffened and sniffed but didn’t move. “I want to help ease your pain.”

“I don’t deserve that.” He then tried to pull away as if to prove it, but Ino didn’t let him get far. He looked up at her with puffy eyes filled with anguish and fear. Madara wanted the help, but he didn’t want to let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

If her father was still there, he would tell her to do what was right. The Yamanaka’s were notorious for being pacifists unless pushed and even then, their jutsu was better suited for defense rather than offense.

Her father would want her to do what she could to prevent something like the war from happening in the future. And, whether she liked it or not, that began and ended with Madara Uchiha. Not the Madara they saw on the battlefield, but the Madara she was refusing to let go of. The boy whose mother apparently called him a demon.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and his eyes widened as if he was preparing to be hurt. Ino had to swallow around a growing lump in her throat. “Let me decide what I think you deserve from me.”

The raven seemed confused, but instead of questioning her, he nodded and allowed himself to be pulled back to her chest. He rested the side of his head against her shoulder and let his arms lay limp at his sides.

They stayed like that for a while. Long enough for the trembling to almost cease from the boy’s shoulders and for the clouds to disappear. A warm breeze wrapped around them like a hug and encouraged Ino to not let go. Not until he pulled away first.

Her hand sat idle in his hair, gently stroking his scalp and untangling knots. A firm pulse of unique chakra registered in her mind and she smiled to herself. That was Ibiki letting her know that Madara had been stabilized. It was amazing how well the body copied the mind.

They were not out of the woods yet. The path to healing would be long and treacherous. But Ino was up for the challenge, if for no other reason but to ensure her father did not die in vain.

She missed her father so much. He had meant the world to her and his absence left one hell of a scar. He died protecting the shinobi alliance and he was proud of their cause right up until the end. Ino would continue his purpose in his place. She would protect her fellow shinobi by doing what no one else could. What no one else _would_.

Nothing could bring her father back. But she could prevent another from losing their parent. Ino would take on the enormous upward challenge that was Madara Uchiha, and she declared, upon her father’s grave, that she would succeed.

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions!!
> 
> How graphic are you wanting this to get? In terms of Madara's abuse and future situations.
> 
> Also, what characters would you like to see interact with Madara and/or Hashirama?


	5. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara struggles with the choices he's been presented with. To trust or not to trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another difficult chapter to write, but here it is! This chapter feels almost like filler because nothing really happens but anyway. We'll get to the good stuff soon. Real soon.

**Alone**

“Your hair is so soft; I wonder if adult you would let me braid it.”

Ino felt Madara cant his head to the side slightly as if considering what she said. “Does it hurt?”

“No, of course not,” Ino chuckled, “it feels nice.”

“This feels nice,” he responded a little shyly, pressing his face further into her shoulder. She smiled down at him as she wondered when was the last time someone hugged him?

“Good, it’s supposed to.”

Eventually, Ino would have to retreat back to her own body. But, until then, she was content with sitting here with this broken piece of Madara’s psyche. Ibiki could, in theory, piece the Uchiha back together with the same jutsu he used to tear down his mental barriers. But it would be fruitless if Madara wasn’t fighting from within.

Ino had explored many broken minds. Many children and adults ravaged by pain and left unrecognizable. However, she had never seen anyone as broken as Madara and _still viable_. The fact that he still had a piece of his consciousness left spoke volumes. His regression implied that he had been through something similar before. Something else hurt him enough that he had to create this place to retreat to.

There was still so much left for her to discover about him. But she wouldn’t push it. He was fragile at best and susceptible to permanent damage or even brain death should he dissolve further. 

A soft press of chakra at the back of her mind pulled her from her thoughts. That was Ibiki and he was telling her to pull out. She sighed through her nose and looked down at the boy still clutching her shirt.

_Would he be okay here by himself?_

“Madara,” she called softly, brushing his bangs out of his face so she could see his eyes. They fluttered open and he tilted his head back to look at her. “I have to go now, but I will come back soon, okay?”

He pulled back to sit in front of her and Ino made sure to keep a hand on his shoulder. He was so small, so _thin_. The raven opened and closed his mouth a few times before averting his gaze and frowning.

Ino lifted her free hand and slowly ran the knuckle of her index finger along the slope of his nose – just like her father used to. He initially stiffened at the contact and then relaxed when she did it a few more times. She only stopped when the frown had straightened out. Then, with a final smile, she ended the jutsu.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor of the interrogation room. Madara’s stretcher was right in front of her and Hashirama was still standing at her side with his hand firmly placed on Madara’s chest. Anger was still rolling off of him in waves, but he seemed to have wrangled in the worst of it.

Ino stood slowly and rolled her shoulders. Her limbs were numb and tingly from the mind transfer.

“What happened?”

Ino had expected the question to come from Tsunade or Ibiki, but it had come from a new voice. She turned and came face to face with bright crimson eyes. Tobirama.

“Quite a lot. But he is as stable as can be expected and I am not worried about him worsening.”

Tsunade approached Madara’s other side, her eyes lingering on Hashirama before flicking to her. “What did you see?”

Ino took a moment to consider how she would proceed. Madara had implied a few horrific things, but without seeing those memories herself, she couldn’t be entirely sure what happened. “His mind is in pieces. Most of which are too small to be recognized as anything more than mental fragments.” Hashirama stiffened at this and his hands began to tremble, but they continued to pour healing chakra into Madara’s body. “However, there is one strong piece of his consciousness left. It was a fortified corner of his mind that he had created himself.”

“So, he’s still in there?” Hashirama’s voice was soft but clear.

“Yes, he is,” Ino replied just as gently. “And I believe, if nurtured, he could gain the strength to piece together his broken psyche.”

Tsunade frowned at her, “you couldn’t see his memories at all?” She didn’t seem interested in fixing Madara, just squeezing the last drops of use out of his body before it was discarded.

“No. I spoke to his regressed consciousness and gained some insight, but I couldn’t see his memories directly.”

“How regressed was he?” Ibiki questioned from the corner he was leaning against.

“Extremely. The remaining piece of his consciousness took the form of himself as an eleven-year-old, sitting at the Naka river.”

“Why that particular setting?” Tobirama questioned, frowning down at the Uchiha in confusion. “Why not as his current age?”

“Well, that is a complicated question.” Ino began, “it seems to me that this is not the first time Madara has retreated to this state. It is something we know that children who experience trauma do and continue to do in the future. The process of breaking down his mental barriers would have been excruciating considering those chakra seals. As such, Madara regressed to the time that he felt the safest and most secure. Which, apparently, was when he was eleven and sitting at the Naka river.”

The room was silent for a few moments as the collective parties absorbed the information. Tsunade looked annoyed that the information would take time to collect and Ibiki simply looked tired.

The implications of what she said were enormous. Madara didn’t feel safe in Konoha, he didn’t feel safe with his clan. It begged the question, did Madara ever feel truly safe?

“Did you speak to him?” Hashirama wondered, his hands no longer glowing green, but still placed on Madara’s chest.

“I did.”

“Is he...okay?”

“No,” there was no reason to sugar coat it, “he is under a lot of psychological stress and is barely coping with his situation. He seems to still have all his memories despite his regression, and he briefly mentioned the war.” This brought all eyes to her. “He is incredibly remorseful.”

“What else?” Tsunade pressed.

“He didn’t say much, and I will not push him until he can handle it. But he did imply that he was abused as a child.”

“What?” Hashirama reared back to look at her. His eyes are wide with confusion and wet with his pain. “What did he say?” It hurt Ino to continue.

“He mentioned that his clan was not fond of him. That they referred to him as a tool for their purposes. He also said that his father paid attention to him in a way that he didn’t think was normal and that his mother hated him for it. She apparently called him a demon.”

“That is hardly proof of anything,” Tsunade began, her tone defensive.

“I think he was implying that his father raped him.” Ino cut her off easily. The air around them cooled considerably. “I’ve dealt with children who experienced sexual assault before. He definitely acted in a similar way.”

After a moment of silence, Ino continued, “If we are to prevent something like this from ever happening again, we need to know exactly how Madara came to be. Childhood abuse changes how people see the world. 

Tsunade sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, “alright, I think we all have earned a break. We will continue this in the morning.”

Ino gave Madara one last thoughtful look before following Ibiki out of the room. Tsunade lingered in the observation room, watching the Senju brothers. Hashirama’s head was bowed and his eyes flickered across Madara’s face as if looking for answers.

“Elder brother…” Tobirama clapped his sibling on the shoulder. “We have done enough for today.”

Hashirama hand’s curled around the fabric of Madara’s mantle and he grimaced behind the curtain of his hair. More tears collected in his eyes. “Was Tajima really capable of…” He couldn’t say it. Not with the lump blocking his airway.

“Perhaps.” Tobirama admitted, “but you won’t be much use to Madara if you are exhausted. Even you need rest, elder brother.”

“But-,”

“His vitals are being monitored, if something happens, we will know.”

Hashirama finally relented at that. If only because he knew that something a little more than human was looking out for his friend.

“The rooms Tsunade set aside for us are close by. He’ll be okay for a few hours.”

Hashirama allowed Tobirama to lead him towards the door. He looked back once and barely resisted the urge to return to Madara’s side.

x.X.x

Ino lived in the apartment above the Yamanaka flower shop. It was small, but it suited her needs. She rarely brought anyone over aside from Sakura and when she did, they didn’t stay long.

She deposited her things on the couch and headed for the bathroom. The tie was pulled from her hair and she stretched her arms above her head to ease a knot she’d developed from sitting too long. She left the water to warm as she shed her clothing. When the shower was ready, she stepped in.

The hot water felt glorious on her back and her shoulders seemed to melt under the gentle rain. She went through the motions of cleaning and caring for her hair and body, all the while her mind was elsewhere. Particularly, with a raven-haired boy sitting by a river. Was he still sitting there? What was he thinking about?

After just the one encounter, Ino was hyper-fixated on Madara’s case. It was likely due to her feeling obligated to make her father’s death mean something. And if she was using it as a distraction from her grief, at least it was helping.

 _Madara, Madara, Madara_.

The boy, the man, the ghost of the Uchiha.

She never would have thought she’d be given the chance to see into his mind. And if it wasn’t for Hashirama, she might have never been able to. Now, _he_ was also an enigma.

The first Hokage, the man who co-founded the village, and who stood by the one who tried to destroy it – more than once if she remembered correctly. Perhaps it would be a good idea to sit down with the Senju. Maybe he could share some insight into Madara’s behaviour – his brother too. There was definitely _something_ between them. And Ino got the feeling that neither of them knew exactly what it was.

There was something Madara said that was still bothering her. ‘ _Everyone hurts me_.’ While he was hindered with the critical thinking skills of an eleven-year-old, he still had the memories of the adult Madara. Was he exaggerating? Or did Madara truly not have any significant positive experiences with other humans?

It was a horrifying thought, but it certainly would explain a few things. Particularly why Madara felt it was just to kill for the greater peace of all. If he knew nothing but rejection, betrayal, and loneliness, how could he possibly come to any other conclusion? Anyone could become a monster given the right circumstances.

Nevertheless, she would speak with him about it in time.

Ino stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. For now, she needed to jot down her thoughts about the interaction and get some sleep. She intended to spend as much time with Madara as she could the following day. And perhaps, she could convince Tsunade to let her bring someone else into his mind with her.

x.X.x

Madara was pacing angrily up and down the bank of the river, his hands fisted at his sides. He was so _confused_. And he was so angry that he was confused. Ino. Ino Yamanaka. How dare she come here and confuse him like that? What was he supposed to do now?!

He had tried meditating, sleeping, training, swimming, sunbathing, and _praying_ , yet nothing was shedding any light on his situation. Even the wind, which he begged to be quiet at times, was silent.

Was he supposed to trust her? To fight her? Ignore her? Was she a good person? He felt like she was, she did hug him after all, and she never asked for anything in return. Not _yet_ , anyway. But she could be faking.

The whole thing was aggravating, and he wanted to tear his hair out. His serene oasis had become the stomping ground of the unknown and he was trapped there. He had tried to walk out into the forest, but as soon as the Naka river disappeared in the distance, it reappeared just through the trees ahead. No matter which direction he went, he always ended up back at the river.

The sun twinkled with amusement every time and it made him flush with anger.

“How about you give me answers instead of mocking me?!” He’d cried out fruitlessly at the sky.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy, nothing was. But his heart ached, and his bones felt fragile. He wanted to rest, but the heavyweight in his stomach was still there.

Madara plopped down at the edge of the river with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. Typically, he made decisions based on his gut but clearly that hadn’t worked out the first time. Maybe that was why he was there. Was he dead? Was this what death felt like? Was he to repent for something he only vaguely remembered his future-past-adult self doing?

He flopped down on his back and sniffed. He wasn’t crying, _the sun was just really bright_. He missed Hashirama. The obnoxious brunet seemed to always know what to do. And he had been right, hadn’t he? Hashirama had managed to unite an entire nation all on his own while Madara was out plotting to achieve the impossible.

He must be pissed. But no, Hashirama saved him, didn’t he? The seal would have killed him had he and Tobirama not settled it and healed the aftereffects. But _why_?

With a growl of frustration, he turned onto his stomach and buried his head into his arms. So confusing, _so confusing_.

His gut told him that no one could be trusted and that he should sink to the bottom of the Naka with the leaves. But he _wanted_ to see Ino again. He wanted to ask Hashirama why he was spared, and he even wanted to see Tobirama again. If only to try and piss him off. 

So, what should he do? What part of him should he follow? Where was the want coming from? He felt it in his chest, around the same spot where Izuna used to be. What was that space called?

He had already told Ino some things he had never told anyone else before and she hadn’t run. So, did that mean she was really willing to help? What would helping him even mean? Could she get him out of there? Maybe help his heartache less?

He was mulling over the answer when he was finally, _finally_ , lulled to sleep by the heat from the sun and the gentle caress of the wind.

x.X.x

Ino arrived at TIU bright and early the next morning. She was certain that she would be the first one, but she found both Senju brothers and the Hokage already in the observation room. None of the three looked well-rested and she supposed she didn’t look it either as she sipped her extra-large coffee.

They seemed to be discussing the brother’s future involvement. Tobirama leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and was doing most of the talking. Hashirama was seated at the desk with his chin resting in his palm and eyes trained on Madara through the glass. The raven was right where they left him, and the monitor showed his vitals were stable.

“Good morning,” a rough voice grumbled behind her, and she almost chuckled.

“Good morning, Ibiki-san.”

He grunted and continued further into the room. He looked like hell and also had a large coffee in hand. Ibiki unapologetically walked right between Tobirama and Tsunade to take the seat beside Hashirama. Which was where he collapsed like he hadn’t rested in years.

Most thought Ibiki to be a sadist with little regard for human life. Ino knew, however, that he was a man with one hell of a past who just wanted to do right by Konoha. It took years of working with him to figure that out, but it seemed that his hardened exterior required energy he didn’t have after not getting enough sleep.

No one commented on his arrival aside from a short greeting, but Ibiki did manage to derail the conversation. Ino stood by the doorway, watching the rise and fall of Madara’s chest. Had anyone done a physical exam on the Uchiha? That could shed some light on the situation.

“Ino, I wasn’t expecting you so early.” Tsunade walked up beside her, they were nearly the same height. 

“Good morning, Tsunade-sama. It is unwise to leave abuse-victims alone for too long.”

“Abuse-victim? Is that what you see him as?” Tsunade’s temper flared and Ino mentally scolded herself.

“Just in this context,” she clarified quickly, “I am still very aware of what he has done.”

Tsunade seemed to accept that and turned to the gentlemen in the room. “Ibiki, please make sure no one does anything stupid. Shizune will check on you in a few hours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her with his coffee, and the Hokage made her exit. “Now then, Yamanaka, what’s in the folder?”

Ino glanced down at the papers under her arm. “Oh! Well, I thought it would be wise to see what the archives had to say about Madara, and I compiled a list of things I found relevant.”

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Hashirama jested lightly, a ghost of a smile on his face.

She breathed a soft chuckle, “not at all, Lord First. I did find something troubling though. There seem to be several missing documents. Particularly, those from the Uchiha and Senju clan elders.”

“From the Senju?”

“Yes, there seems to be a considerable lack of information about Madara while every other clan discussed him in detail.”

Ibiki stood after a long draw from his coffee. “Some documents get lost with time. That was a long time ago. Regardless, we have an even better source of information right here.” He nodded towards Madara. “For now, let's focus on gaining his trust. Particularly through _you_. I think you should materialize yourself with him just as before, but I want you to wire me in so I can see what is happening, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait, you can bring someone else in there with you?” Hashirama immediately perked up.

Ino nodded, “I can.”

“Elder brother, it might not be a good idea for you to-.”

“Maybe I could talk to him!” Hashirama stood and bull-dozed right over Tobirama’s protest. “I know him better than anyone else!”

“Anija…”

“I think that is a good idea.” Ino interjected, “it would be good for Madara to see someone he is familiar with. But just, not yet.”

Hashirama’s smile immediately fell and he _pouted_. Ino giggled and Tobirama rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“If I feel the time is right, I’ll mention you to him and see how he reacts.”

Hashirama huffed and fell back into his chair, like a scolded child. Ino smiled and followed Ibiki into Madara’s room. They sat side by side and Ino weaved the appropriate hand signs. She and Ibiki plunged into the inky darkness that was Madara’s mind. The space was sprinkled with twinkling white lights which represented the pieces of his psyche. They maneuvered towards the largest one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions!
> 
> Does it feel like things are moving too quickly? Should Ino bring Hashirama into Madara's mind with her? Will it make things worse or better?


	6. Can Anybody Hear Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write because I kept crying. And I added a few more tags. 
> 
> Continue at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a long-ass version of my thoughts on this chapter and I'll post it on Tumblr. https://madarahashirama.tumblr.com/post/628007282322653184/new-chapter . The short version will be in the end notes.

**Can anybody hear me?**

Madara sighed softly through his nose and slowly rolled onto his back. He flinched away from the harsh sunlight and threw an arm over his eyes. Slumber pulled at him, trying to drag him back under, but it quickly became apparent that any effort to fall back asleep would be useless.

_It was back_.

That gnawing – _itching_ – feeling that slithered its way up the back of his neck and settled like claws around the crown of his skull. The inside of his belly tingled with the anxiety that always came with it. The raven let out a measured shaky breath intended to help calm his increasing heart rate.

_It didn’t help._

The world around him felt stark and raw; the air felt still and staticky. A panic attack was building, he needed to _move_. Madara scrambled to his feet and began walking along the side of the river. He curled his arms around himself and stared down at his feet.

_Inhale for two steps, exhale for three._

It wasn’t unusual for him to awaken caught in the sharp maw of panic. His father used to place a chakra seal on his chest during the night so that he wouldn’t wake and unleash a devastating jutsu in the midst of his anguish. Eventually, this grew to include a dozen chakra seals on the walls of his room. Then, ultimately, a permanent chakra seal was tattooed on his body. His father then had complete control of his chakra – and _him_. Tajima could allow him access to it or cut it off anytime he wanted. Apparently, Butsuma had suggested it. The damned Senju was often given the reigns as well.

The young Uchiha’s steps fell quicker. He was rapidly picking up speed and his thin chest began to heave with increasingly uncontrolled breaths.

It had taken Madara _decades_ to figure out how to undo the seal. Tajima and Butsuma were long dead by then, neither thought to remove it themselves. The seal was unstable and the longer it sat on his chakra network, the more permanent damage it did. Had he left it a few years longer, his chakra network would have corroded, and he would have died. It might not have been a bad way to go if it had been painless.

_It wasn’t._

Madara broke into a jog, his hair whipped around him as the wind began to pick up as well. An angry rumble of thunder snarled in the distance and clouds billowed across the crystal blue skies like smoke. He needed to try and calm down, but it felt like he needed to run – like his life _depended_ on it.

In hindsight, starvation might have taken his life before the seal could. There were times when he couldn’t keep anything down. He sometimes went _weeks_ without food before it would settle. Izuna would temporarily take his place as clanhead during those times. Madara would lie to the clan, he’d say he had a special mission to achieve when it got too bad and he would go out into the forest alone.

 _To die_.

He’d stray outside the farthest Uchiha patrol route. Sometimes, if strong enough, he would edge into Senju territory – he never understood _why_. The only company he had during those times was a kunai. One so inviting yet so relentless. Death was permanent, and the Uchiha and Senju clanhead’s were _still alive_. 

_What if they went after Izuna in his place?_

Tears blurred his vision and he gasped against the boiling metal agony in his belly. His legs drove him faster and faster. The trees along one side and the river on the other blurred. He couldn’t escape it; _he couldn’t escape it_.

He had suffered so much from that seal.

 _And now it was back_.

“No, no, no,” he gasped. Not again, he couldn’t go through that again. It was almost too much the first time and now he didn’t have Izuna to fight for. He had nothing and no one. It would eat him alive and there was nothing he could do about it.

Madara’s left knee buckled. He stumbled to a stop and fell to his knees. He choked on an inhale and screamed on the exhale. His fingers dug into the stones alongside the river and he clenched them as tightly as he could. His broken sobs and hitched gasps were lost to the violent winds around him. 

“You _bastard_!” He cried. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Tajima, Butsuma, Hashirama, or himself. His abdominals quivered from the strength of the sobs that tore through him. It hurt physically, but the mental pain was much worse.

“Why!? Why the fuck did you do this?!” He screamed up at the sky, the thunder was his only response. He had to stop, he had to calm down. The panic blocked every attempt he made to regain control. It surrounded him. Clutched at his chest until his ribs threatened to give under the pressure.

 _The pain, the pain, the pain_.

Madara could feel nothing else. The memories were so clear. He might as well be back in the forest, kneeling against a tree, waiting for sweet death to finally find him.

_It never did, there was only the pain._

He should have succumbed to the Naka river back then. The water was kind, always helping heal his aching wounds and cool his overheated heart. His only companion in a world full of two-faced enemies.

Warm arms wrapped around him and yanked him back against a warm chest, but Madara didn’t notice. “I did _everything_!”

“It’s okay, Madara, it’s okay!”

“I gave you _everything_.” His voice cracked and he curled forward as if trying to shield himself from the pain burned into his soul. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide. The pain would always find him. No matter how much he sacrificed, no matter how much _good_ he did, it was always there – waiting.

It was pointless. He didn’t belong anywhere. No one loved him.

No one would _ever_ love him.

“Just _breathe_ , Madara, it’s okay, breathe!”

His hands grasped at the invisible hand squeezing his throat. “It _hurts_.” His lungs burned, it felt like he was slowly drowning.

“I know, I know it hurts, but you need to keep breathing!”

Madara managed to take in a deep breath, but he couldn’t hold it. It came out as another cry of agony. The arms around him were barely able to hold his withering form still.

“Ino, he’s not breathing!”

“I _know_!”

Madara spits out a mouthful of blood, but the sobs didn’t cease. The well-being of his mental self mirrored his physical self. The scene around them began to flicker and Ino knew that Madara was truly about to die.

“Go get, Hashirama!”

The arms let him go and he collapsed forward onto his hands. His lips continued to mouth the words, ‘ _it hurts_ ’ over and over again. His body rocked with a harsh sob and he fell forward onto his forehead and rolled onto his side.

His heartbeat loudly in his ears and then it stopped.

He gasped once and then his chest seized. His mouth opened, but no air nor sound came out.

A final tear fell from his right eye.

 _Was this it_?

 _Would death finally come to collect him_?

Madara’s blurred vision caught something moving on the other side of the darkening river. There was a figure running towards him across the water. Recognition took but a second; he knew that brown bowl-cut anywhere.

“Madara!”

The stillness shattered.

Finally, _finally_ , his lungs expanded, and he pushed his upper body off the ground with his last shred of strength as his friend closed in. The Senju’s name was on his lips as they collided. Madara’s back didn’t hit the ground. Hashirama twisted them onto their sides and collected Madara as close to his chest as he could.

The Uchiha clutched at his clothes and convulsed against a sharp inhale – but he was _breathing_. Hashirama was crying and the tears fell into dense raven locks. There were so many things he wanted to say to his friend, but only one thing broke through the heavy anguish surrounding them.

“I’m so sorry, Madara,” young Hashirama sobbed, pressing his face further into his friend’s hair. “I am so sorry!”

The moment Madara got enough air into his lungs, he brokenly exclaimed, “it hurts, Hashi – it _hurts_!”

Hashirama wished he meant the physical pain but knew that he didn’t.

“I know, Madara.”

The wind had calmed somewhat, and it now swept over them like a warm blanket. The world was no longer dimming, but the clouds did not disperse.

“I don’t want to feel it anymore, Hashi!”

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m here with you.” These words finally had the intended effect and Madara sucked in a deep breath and it didn’t come right back out as a sob or cry.

Hashirama molded as much healing chakra as he could given his body's age and pressed it into Madara’s back. If injuries the mental body suffered transferred to the physical body, maybe healing did too. He had left a wood clone outside Madara’s mind, but he couldn’t lay there idly while his friend suffered. He had to do _something_.

Madara’s head rolled back and they locked eyes. Hashirama immediately wanted to look away, the pain he saw in those eyes was too much. But he wasn’t going to back down, not ever again. He was a coward in his first life, he wouldn’t be this time.

“Y-you _left_ me,” Madara’s eyes crinkled and fresh tears spilled down his flushed cheeks.

“Madara-,”

“You left me behind, you _bastard_!” Madara cried and Hashirama tensed, fearing the Uchiha might fall into another panic attack. Instead, the raven clutched his clothes and trembled through quiet sobs. “Why did you do that?” His voice was so small it was almost inaudible.

It quickly became apparent that Madara was not talking about him leaving the village. Then what?

Maybe he was talking about how he did little to help alleviate the pain of losing Izuna.

Maybe he was talking about how Hashirama placed Tobirama at his side instead of him.

Maybe he was talking about how Hashirama handled the Hokage election.

Maybe he was talking about how Hashirama stopped asking Madara’s opinion on things and instead only asked Tobirama.

Maybe he was talking about how he stopped showing up for their morning tea with the excuse that he had too much work.

Maybe he was talking about how Hashirama allowed Tobirama to bar Madara from attending meetings.

Maybe he was talking about how Hashirama gave into the elder's demands to marry the Uzumaki heir when he finally started to notice Madara’s distance.

Maybe he was talking about how he ignored Madara’s claims that the Uchiha felt they were placed under the Senju despite sacrificing just as much.

Maybe, when Madara left the village, he didn’t go because he wanted to leave, but because he wanted to see if anyone would follow. He was giving Hashirama one last chance to make things right. Even after everything he’d done.

Hashirama’s name was painted in the fractures of Madara’s mind. He had so many chances to do something. But he did _nothing_. And to now find out that Tajima-

“ _I am so sorry_.” The Senju keened, trembling against the one he hurt the most. The one who _needed_ him the most.

“Why?” Madara breathed, and Hashirama got the sense that even though he was grasping Madara, he could no longer touch him. What if it was too late? What if he was too far gone?

“I-I,” _speak you coward_ , “I lost sight of what was really important.” It was as if a hole had been torn in his heart, and when he opened his mouth, the truth came out. “I let my true goals and happiness be sidetracked time and time again. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I didn’t realize what I was turning you into, Madara.”

Hashirama leaned his head down and knocked their foreheads together. Madara shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. “You were all I had left.”

“I am so sorry,” Hashirama felt he could say he was sorry a million times, but it would never be enough.

“You still won’t kill me, will you?” There was little lilt in the question. Madara knew the answer. Hashirama wouldn’t.

“No. Never.”

_Never again_.

Hashirama expected him to ask why, but he didn’t. Instead, Madara opened his eyes and looked straight into his soul. At this proximity, the red in his iris’ was visible.

“I shouldn’t trust you. Not your _word_ , not your _actions_ , not your _promises_.” There was something deeply soft and broken in his tone. It kept Hashirama’s lips locked and his breath hitched. Madara looked away and tensed as if wanting to pull back, but Hashirama’s arms didn’t give. It felt like a test. When their eyes met again, he knew he’d passed.

His reward was worse than a katana to the chest.

“But I _can’t stop_ ,” the Uchiha’s eyes overflowed, “I can’t stop _loving_ you.”

The world stopped and Hashirama felt something physically break inside his chest. The burning ache was agonizing. Suddenly, everything he’d done appeared so much worse.

_Love_?

“Fuck, I _hate_ you!” Madara yelled in his face. “I hate you so _fucking_ much, Hashirama!”

The brunet shoved Madara’s head under his chin and did nothing else as he was punched, kicked, pinched, clawed, and pushed. He deserved it all and more. Tears continued to fall down both their faces, but Hashirama said nothing, he barely breathed.

It was difficult to grasp the situation now that he saw everything objectively. The level of betrayal he had dealt to his friend – his best friend – was disgusting. He felt shameful and guilty. He felt unworthy and weak. The worst part was that no matter how low he felt, he knew he could never feel as bad as Madara did. Because Madara never killed him. Madara didn’t betray his trust and then leave him behind. He still had a brother, he still had a family.

Madara had _nothing_.

Yet, even after everything, when his limbs stilled, Madara curled into him like he was a warm fire on a winter’s night.

Why? Why did he bother with someone like Hashirama? Why was only he able to save Madara from himself?

_Was this what love did to someone_?

Was this the true underlying reason behind Hashirama’s oblivious betrayal? Was he scared to give someone that kind of power? To allow someone the chance to hurt him in such a horrific way and yet still crave them? Still _need_ them? Was that love?

“Madara,” his voice was as soft as the delicate wind, “I would give you the world if I could. But I know that still wouldn’t make up for what I’ve done.” He paused to quell the growing lump in his throat. “Nothing ever could. I don’t deserve your trust or your _love_. I don’t deserve any part of you.”

Madara’s soft – _even_ – breaths puffed against his throat – urging him on. “I…I just want to do things _right._ I would tear down the village and build it all over again if it would make things okay. But I know it’s much deeper than that.” The Uchiha’s body gradually went lax and if it wasn’t for the flutter of wet eyelashes against his skin, he would have thought Madara fell unconscious.

“I’ve been given this second chance and I-,” Hashirama grimaced against a rising sob, “i-if you’ll let me, I want to try again. I want to make you my priority and do the things I should have done before.”

Feather soft hair tickled his chin as Madara pulled back to look him in the eye. Those dark eyes were still damp, but there weren’t any tears marring his cheeks anymore.

“Why?” The Uchiha croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming.

At that moment, the clouds finally parted enough to allow gentle rays of sunlight to drip onto the river. Hashirama didn’t have to think about the answer, he knew it in his heart. It just _was_ and maybe it always had been.

“Because I love you too.”

Madara closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

Hope trickled into Hashirama’s chest when he felt, for the first time since he got there, that he was holding _Madara_. The true Madara; the one he missed and cared for so much. It was like the Uchiha had finally come back to his body and was wholly and truly _there_.

“I was afraid of that.” He breathed, hands winding into Hashirama’s shirt again as if just to keep him there.

His anchor, his _roots_.

“You don’t have to accept my love. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just-“ Hashirama felt an urgent sense of raw yearning, “just let me stand beside you. Let me help you. Please.”

Madara’s response wasn’t immediate. He wasn’t thinking, he was tired.

“I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”

“To stand beside someone?” Hashirama swallowed down his anxiety. He didn’t have the right to be worried about rejection. Not after he had done just that over and over.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll carry you until you get used to it.” The words spilled out and Hashirama was afraid of how it would be taken. That is, until Madara breathed a soft chuckle. It was barely a spark compared to the beautiful inferno that was Madara Uchiha, but it was still there. It was _something_ and Hashirama latched onto it like it was his lifeline.

 _Because it was_.

“Does that mean you know how to get out of here?”

“Out of your mind?”

“Is that where we are?” Madara weakly moved to sit up and instead of letting him go, Hashirama sat up with him. The Uchiha didn’t comment on it. “Is that why we’re...younger?"

“Yeah, what do you…remember?”

Madara looked down at the glistening water a few feet in front of them. “The war. And…pain. You s-ealed me.” He slapped a hand over his heart when it palpitated threateningly.

Seeing the spike in panic, Hashirama squeezed Madara to his side without thinking. Madara initially tensed and then – thankfully – slowly went lax against him. “It’s temporary,” the brunet promised.

“Temporary?”

“Yeah, it will fade with time.”

“So, it won’t kill me?”

“No, of course not!” The way Madara heaved an enormous sigh of relief and all but collapsed onto him told Hashirama that that had been a major concern for him. He wanted to know why, but it wasn’t the right time. He could still feel Ino and Ibiki lingering nearby and they obviously wanted a few answers of their own.

“I will do everything I can to make sure that no one hurts you again.”

Despite every instinct that told him to run, Madara listened to the _want_ in his chest, right in the spot where Izuna used to be.

Madara believed him.

* * *

So, nothing in this chapter was supposed to happen the way it happened.

The chapter was supposed to open with Madara and Ibiki meeting and talking about the chakra seals, but everything went left when I tried to go right.

And all of this because the idea that Madara would quietly sit across from Ino and talk about his feelings was _laughable_. Madara doesn’t do anything quietly. He is an inferno and incredibly passionate in everything that he does.

Madara was ‘fine’ when he was distracted. During the war, he was having fun, playing with the Kage and then Hashirama, but he never really sat down and thought about what was happening. We can see this when he failed the first attempt at Rinne Rebirth and just kinda shrugs. He doesn’t care, he is not thinking.

The first time he really gets the chance to think is when he is squished between Hashirama and Tobirama and his chakra is being sealed. He panics, because _of course he does_ , Tajima and Butsuma did the same thing decades before and that didn’t turn out well. 

He doesn’t get too worked up because he loses consciousness. The same goes for when he awoke in the tent. The few minutes he had to think before he was sedated caused him great anguish but then he was out again.

He initially didn’t second guess waking up at the Naka river because he was just chilling. He was safe (as safe as he had ever felt) so there was no need to worry. Then Ino came along and uh oh, nothing is fine, he is not safe, but he is _exhausted_. As things occur to him, he sinks deeper and deeper into a depression, but he doesn’t really _panic_. He just wants to die.

Then Ino distracts him with a nice hug and he has something to distract himself with. The exhaustion and distraction keep him docile for a little. But then he goes to sleep and gains some _strength_.

I thought to myself, in a real-world setting, what would he do?

What would a person, who suffered this level of trauma do after getting some sleep and waking up alone in a place he couldn’t escape from?

Panic. There is nothing but absolute panic. It literally almost killed him.

So how do you save someone who is falling so hard?

Give them something to grasp onto. That’s why Hashirama had to show up now and there had to be some sort of consensus between them. Madara needed something to distract him, something to help him not think about everything that he lost.

Enter one (1) Senju tree.

Anyway, so that’s that. Hope you liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in this chapter was supposed to happen the way that it happened. 
> 
> This is only the cusp of the emotional trauma that Madara experienced and Hashirama has a lot to make up for. Wish him luck. 
> 
> Question (just two this time):  
> Can Madara ever grow to forgive Hashirama? Knowing what he does now?


	7. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama begins to realize that he never knew the real Madara Uchiha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really appreciate all the feedback! I had a difficult time with this chapter. Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think and what you hope for the future of this fic!

**Scars**

Ino had first considered Madara to be directly on the edge of no return. Perhaps sitting with his legs dangling over.

Now she realized that he was _hanging off of the edge_. They had just witnessed him let go. He was only still alive because Hashirama had dove down at the last second and grabbed his wrists. Madara was now holding onto the ledge again, but only with one hand, the other was still firmly in Hashirama’s.

Ino only pulled herself and Hashirama out of Madara’s mind once he had fallen asleep. Neither of them wanted to leave the Uchiha, but they needed to regroup and build chakra for the next session.

The first thing Hashirama did when he opened his eyes was turn them to Madara’s real body. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the raven was just sleeping. His clone’s hand was placed on Madara’s forehead, glowing green chakra soothing his broken and fragile mind.

“I don’t know what set him off.” Ino answered the main question on everyone’s mind. “But we need to find out who he was talking to.”

“’ _I gave you everything_ ,’” Ibiki repeated, “seems likely he was talking about one of his kin?”

“His father?” Tobirama supplied thoughtfully.

“Hopefully he will give us an answer soon,” Ino sighed, rubbing at the growing headache behind her eyes. There were bunker rooms just down the hall, maybe she could convince Ibiki to let her sleep there until Madara was more stable.

“Why does this keep happening?” Hashirama’s voice was tight as he absorbed his wood clone, “why isn’t he getting better?”

Ino was wondering the same question herself. Ibiki supplied a half-answer, “mental wounds can only heal if the appropriate help is available _and_ the individual _wants_ to heal. In Madara’s case, it seems he has never had either.”

“Why didn’t he _say_ something?” Hashirama racked his hands through his long hair, “I don’t understand why I never saw this before.” The regret and guilt were heavy in his voice. Indeed, Madara’s pain was not just his own. He may not believe others care about him, but the residual pain catching on them all was evident he was wrong.

“This doesn’t seem like something Madara would want to talk about. The Uchiha are much too proud.” Tobirama offered.

“As are the Senju.” Hashirama added as an afterthought.

“Most clans are.” Ino knew all too well the effects clan expectations had on one’s mental health, “we are only just now creating an environment where mental health is prioritized for shinobi and civilians alike.”

“So then,” Hashirama turned to her and Ino almost flinched at the intense pleading behind his watery eyes. "What do we do next? How can we help?”

“Well,” she glanced at Madara as she collected her thoughts, “he took great comfort in having access to you. I think spending time with you will help him build confidence and keep his mind from straying. However, I don’t think you should press him on his issues or discuss anything of the like with him.”

Hashirama frowned and Ino heard the unspoken question.

“He loves you, Hashirama-sama,” she repeated. Tobirama flinched violently but stayed quiet, “enough that he may not want to burden you with his problems and thus will undermine them or deflect. That may be why he didn’t tell you before.”

“It’s not a burden though-,”

“In my experience with trauma victims,” Ino interrupted softly, “they don’t talk about their problems because they tried once and were rejected.”

“Rejected?” Hashirama whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. How could someone do such a thing?

“Madara’s particular situation will become clearer over time. But what’s important is that you firmly stay to your promise.” Ino locked her eyes with the first Hokage’s so she knew he understood. “You brought him back from the brink, your place in his life is irreplaceable but, _you_ hurt him too.”

Hashirama winced and averted his gaze, prompting Ino to place her hand on his shoulder. “Wounds can heal, and I get the sense that he wants to forgive you and patch things up. That doesn’t mean that he will forget anything. We need to be cautious moving forward.”

The brunet looked up and met her steady gaze, “I want to save him, I _need_ to.”

“Don’t burden yourself with the guilt of his condition. You are likely the reason he made it this far.” Ino hated seeing the powerful man so anguished. Hashirama had a painful past as well and Ino didn’t want him to get worse either. A lot of things needed to come to the light and both Madara and Hashirama would have to bear their insides. One way or the other.

Ino approached Madara’s side and placed a hand on his forehead. “He won’t awaken for a while; he is deep in REM sleep.”

“Alright then. Yamanaka, I want you to stay here and monitor Madara’s state. When he wakes up, go in. I trust your judgment, bring Hashirama if you feel it necessary. I am going to update the Hokage on the situation. And get another coffee.” Ibiki grumbled as he swept out of the room.

For the next half an hour, the Senju brothers held up the wall opposite Madara’s stretcher while Ino retrieved her notebook to write out her thoughts.

_Madara, Madara, Madara._

A question was written in bold at the top of the first page “Has anyone done a physical exam on Madara?”

“No.” Hashirama answered, looking up from the hole he was burning in the floor. “Why?”

“Scars. Abuse tends to leave different scars than battle does. It could help us catalog some of what happened to him without forcing him to relive it.”

Hashirama opened his mouth and then closed it. He frowned, “I don’t know the difference, but I want to be there during this exam.”

Ino nodded, having expected no less.

“Are you sure that is wise, elder brother?” The soft undertones of Tobirama’s concern gave his voice a soothing lilt.

“He is heavily scarred; I know that from healing him. But, I…” Something had changed with Hashirama’s demeanor. There was a hardened acceptance set in the tightness of his jaw and a cruel fear of the unknown hidden behind his crossed arms. As difficult as it was for him now, Ino knew that things were about to get a lot worse. Hashirama seemed to know this as well. “I want to know everything. I want to know the depth of his suffering so that I can help him heal properly.”

x.X.x

Tsunade sat in her office, head placed on an upturned palm.

_What a mess_.

She was currently completing the necessary steps to hand over leadership to Kakashi, but she couldn’t hand over the problem that was truly bothering her.

Her grandfather, Hashirama Senju, the co-founder of Konoha, and the god of shinobi was nothing like she had been told. Tsunade wasn’t naive. She knew that her grandmother had only married him to bear his children. It was all but written in the history books. Mito left the moment she had a child in her arms.

She also knew that Mito refused to even discuss the issue of their marriage or give Hashirama access to his kids, leaving Hashirama in a binding marriage and alone. Her father had been completely brainwashed into thinking Hashirama was an evil man, but Tsunade was smart enough to collect all information before making a decision. She had begun her research shortly after she was rescued during the fall of Uzushiogakure and brought to Konoha. Hashirama had been long dead then, but she still wanted to know the truth.

It became apparent to her that the marriage was a political one. There was no love. It was a means to bind the Uzumaki clan to Konoha. It seemed, however, that none of the Uzumaki had any intentions of settling anywhere but their home village.

Tsunade felt sympathy for the man. That is, until she saw him out there on the battlefield, standing between Madara and the shinobi alliance. For a long moment, she wondered if he truly was the man she had been told he was. A monster. A tyrant.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

With every new development in Madara’s case, Tsunade was becoming more and more unsure of what was real and what wasn’t. By all accounts, including from the Uchiha themselves, Madara was a horribly twisted monster who was intent on destroying the village. But where was the evidence?

Madara had never attacked the village itself, only Hashirama. Tsunade had seen what Madara was capable of. If he truly wanted to destroy Konoha, he would have. Furthermore, there were no records describing _why_ Madara left in the first place. It was becoming increasingly clear why the records were absent. They were destroyed to prevent anyone from knowing the truth.

If Madara truly was the man they say he was, there would be no reason to hide that kind of information. This meant that he _wasn’t_ who they say he was. And Tsunade was starting to see that for herself. The man was dangerous and unstable, but he wasn’t evil. He was broken.

She needed to push aside her biases and look at the situation as objectively as she could. If the village in some way aided or caused Madara to do what he did, they needed to know. Even if it would shake the very foundation Konoha was built on.

x.X.x

The interrogation and observation rooms were completely empty save for Hashirama and Sakura. Ino had asked her friend to be the one to examine Madara. Not only because she trusted Sakura’s skills above anyone else’s, but also because she wanted her friends’ input.

With Sakura involved, Ino could discuss his case without violating patient confidentiality. It seemed ridiculous that she was worried about such things after a war, but Ino was thinking about the future. If Madara ended up staying in Konoha for a while, they needed to keep the information they gained quiet. Not to mention the hell Hashirama would rage if rumours began to spread about the Uchiha.

“Okay, I am going to remove his shirt,” Sakura announced, meeting Hashirama’s eyes. The brunet was breathing heavily, he was nervous. Sakura could sympathize, had it been Sasuke or Naruto on the table she would be horrified as well. 

The light fabric of his mantle slipped easily over Madara’s head and she placed the cloth on the table against the wall. Hashirama’s eyes were already searching the man’s chest. There were quite a few scars littered across his front, the largest of which was over his heart. The one Hashirama himself had caused. Slowly, Sakura cataloged each one.

 _Five burns…eight blade cuts…and about a dozen small laceration scars – perhaps from kunai_.

None of the scars on his chest obviously indicated abuse. She moved on to his arms. His arms were much more scarred, which was normal. Shinobi were taught to put their arms between weapons and their bellies. They could live without a limb.

 _Eighteen burns….twenty blade cuts…thirty laceration scars_.

The large number of scars was _odd_ , but not particularly alarming given the dangerous time that Madara grew up. Sakura wondered if all shinobi from the warring states period were this scarred.

“I am going to remove his pants now.” Sakura waited for Hashirama to nod before she continued.

His eyes followed the line of his pants as they were pulled down. His heart clenched and he swallowed around a lump in his throat. He knew to expect there to be scarring on his genitals, but seeing it hit him differently. There was a very long and slightly uneven scar carved into the side of Madara’s penis.

After a moment of silence, Hashirama lifted his head to look at Sakura. She tended to mumble aloud as she worked, but she was quiet. She was looking down at a spot on Madara’s left hip, her eyes slightly wide with surprise and confusion. Hashirama leaned forward to see what she was looking at and immediately wanted to vomit.

There, just below the bulge of Madara’s hip bone was the Senju clan symbol, carved into his flesh. There was no mistaking it.

Ice poured through Hashirama’s veins and he had to clench the side of the stretcher to prevent himself from falling to his knees.

_No, no, no, that is-_

“Hashirama-sama, please take a deep breath.” Sakura’s voice was muffled by the ringing in his ears.

The request seemed entirely unreasonable; he was breathing much too quickly to hold onto more than a mouthful of air.

“Hashirama-sama, you need to calm down.” A light hand brushed against his and Sakura was now standing beside him.

_He was panicking_.

Wild brown stared into calm green and he managed to wrangle his breathing in enough to get a good lungful of air. “That’s it, just keep breathing.”

His gaze slipped back to Madara and the symbol was still there. Pale and stretched into a slightly distorted shape. He grew after that was carved there. The brunet squeezed his eyes closed and pulled himself together. “I’m okay.” He breathed, daring to open his eyes again. He was a shinobi, he could endure this, if only for Madara’s sake.

Sakura nodded and returned to her spot on the other side of the Uchiha. Her fingers brushed over the mark and she hummed in thought, “this is significant.”

_No shit_.

“The position and angle of the cut suggests it was not self-inflicted and it appears to have been recarved more than once. He was likely in his teens when this was done.”

Finally managing to mirror Sakura’s detachment, Hashirama followed the movement of her gloved fingers as they moved from scar to scar. She delicately lifted Madara’s penis to inspect the underside and his testicles. There were a few thin marks along those areas, too many to be accidental. Next came his legs.

Burns and lacerations marked each leg. None of which could be definitively proven to be a result of abuse. But there were just _so many_.

The scars on his feet were nothing like either had ever seen before. There were dozens of little pale dots on his soles. As if someone took a senbon and continuously poked his feet over and over. Or he stepped on a bed of nails or a trap.

Hashirama helped Sakura flip the Uchiha onto his front. With a leather hair tie, Sakura pulled his hair out of the way.

An overwhelming wave of dread plunged into Hashirama’s system and he grimaced against a sob. His detachment was shattered the moment Madara’s hair was pulled aside. His back was _by far_ the most scarred. The most obvious scar began at his right shoulder blade and descending diagonally across his back.

  1. _O. N. S. T. E. R_.



The Senju symbol on his hip immediately followed the R. It was a _signature_. A Senju had done this. Sakura watched him carefully but didn’t say anything.

These weren’t wounds from battle. No, this was evidence of _torture_. And a Senju had done it. _A Senju had done this_.

Sakura took a moment to steady her own breathing but kept her face neutral. If he hadn’t been sure Madara was hiding something horrible before, he sure as hell was now.

Who could have done this? Hashirama would have noticed someone hurting Madara, right? Unless the tormentor left the Senju compound and found Madara somewhere. But that didn’t make sense, Madara was a powerful ninja, even as a child.

A piece was missing. Hashirama could feel that there was _something_ that was absent. He felt it right on the tip of his tongue. Something that would make all of this make sense.

“Lord First?”

“I’m okay,” he breathed through the tears. He was not okay. But this wasn’t about him.

Sakura nodded and continued the exam. Hashirama wasn’t following her movements anymore. He couldn’t look away from the letters carved into Madara’s back. They were pale and stretched as well. Had someone hurt him before they met at the river? Why?

Too many questions and not enough answers.

Hashirama felt a surprising sting of betrayal, but not from Madara, from his own family. How could someone do this? The Uchiha and Senju were at war with each other for a long time, but this wasn’t war. It was torture. It was inhumane. It went _unpunished_.

Hashirama also felt a great sense of renewed grief. Madara had suffered the loss of four brothers from the Senju and clearly so much more. And yet, Madara had still agreed to build the village with him – with the _Senju_. What if his attacker was among them? What if Madara had to pass them on the street and act like everything was okay?

 _Oh, Madara_. 

When Hashirama managed to pry his eyes away from his friends back, Sakura was watching him expectantly. He blinked in confusion and then noticed she was holding Madara’s clothes.

Silently, they turned Madara onto his back and clothed him. When they were done, Sakura went to jot down her findings and Hashirama gingerly wrapped his fingers around the raven’s forearm. He felt hollow. He had considered Madara his best friend. Yet, he knew nothing about him.

How must Madara have felt? It was clear that Madara felt strong emotions towards him. But he never spoke about them, never told Hashirama. He had watched Hashirama go about his life, moving farther and farther away while he suffered in silence.

Why would he do that? How could he? Hashirama could hardly keep the most docile of his emotions in check, how could Madara hold back so much? Maybe he had to. Maybe he felt like if he spoke about it, he would be rejected.

Why the fuck hadn’t he paid attention!?

Hashirama’s knees finally buckled and he fell into a squat, his forehead against the side of the stretcher. He had been so blinded by his determination to build the village. So eager to create peace. What he was really doing was managing the shoreline, unaware that there was a tsunami building in the distance.

As much as he wanted to undo what had been done, he couldn’t go back in time. He wouldn’t even know how far back to go or what he would even do. But what was done was done. And he had made a promise to be there with Madara through everything. He would. Even if his heart was shattered in the process. It seemed only fair that he suffered too.

After everything, Madara had given him another chance to try to make things right and he was going to give it everything he had. Even if it meant dismantling the village he had built. Given how much he clearly didn’t know, could he even call it _his_ village? Was he even in charge of the decisions being made?

Madara was smarter than him and yet still was restrained to the point of not speaking of his pains with the one he held closest. Whose to say Hashirama wasn’t being manipulated too?

The question was, who had that kind of power? Who had access to both of them? There was only one person who came to mind, but it couldn’t be. Could it?

 _Who else could it be_?

Hashirama’s fingers twitched with anger as he thought about the Senju symbol carved into Madara’s hip. It _had_ to be a Senju. Madara was the Uchiha clanhead when they built the village. He was the strongest Uchiha, none of them could control him.

Could his loyal little brother be capable of all of this?

No, Tobirama would be too young to cause that kind of damage to Madara’s body. But the way that he felt about the Uchiha. The constant suspicion of Madara’s intentions. He had to know _something_. He was, after all, Butsuma’s perfect soldier. Tobirama had deceived Hashirama in the past to please their father, what if he was hiding something else?

Even beyond the grave, Tobirama was loyal to their clan. Far more loyal than he was to Hashirama. If Butsuma had done something or knew something, Tobirama would keep his secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG QUESTION TIME:
> 
> Tobirama, good or evil?
> 
> You decide.


	8. Love Isn't Supposed to Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS
> 
> Graphic depictions of violence and rape. 
> 
> Madara remembers and Hashirama reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the darkest this fic gets. Be warned. But I think it is important to know how this happened.

**_Love Isn’t Supposed to Hurt_ **

_Decades Ago_

How long had he spent preparing for this? Weeks, maybe a _month_. Yet, he felt completely caught unaware, and vulnerable. It wasn’t because of what he had to do. It was because of who he had to do it with.

Weeks ago, Madara had been sat down in front of his father and the clan elders and told that he would not be servicing his usual roster of clients anymore. Someone new had asked for him and was willing to pay double the usual fee for Madara to be _only_ his. At first, he was _elated_. A few of his usual clients were mean and even if the new one also was, there was only one of him.

It wasn’t until the day prior to his first meeting with the new client that he was told who it was.

He had been brought into the Senju compound under the cover of darkness and ushered into the main house by the burly guards who refused to speak to him.

He had no way of knowing how to get there because of the blindfold and chakra suppressors. For the first half of the trip, he had been carried and thus, he wasn’t even sure which direction his home was in. 

He heard no signs of life as they ventured into the warm house. Didn’t the Senju clanhead have a family? Where were they?

His inquiries were quickly forgotten when he was pushed into a room that felt a touch cooler than the hall. The swish of a door and the click of a lock had him tensing. Why did they just leave him here?

It was Madara’s birthday and usually, the Uchiha held birthday celebrations – especially for their heir. But he didn’t think that was going to be the case this year.

A large hand fell onto his shoulder and he jolted in surprise. Madara was then led backward until his feet fell onto a squishy surface.

Then, with a flick of someone’s wrist, the blindfold was removed, and his dark eyes fluttered open.

“Madara.”

The way the Senju spat his name made a shiver run down his spine. The air was thick with hate and something else that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Madara didn’t respond, but Butsuma didn’t seem to mind.

They were in a large room with dark walls and no light source except for a small window near the ceiling. There was a thick mat placed in the center of the floor, on which Madara was standing.

The brunette walked a slow circle around the fifteen-year-old Uchiha. Chakra instinctively collected behind Madara’s eyes, but he wasn’t able to activate his Sharingan. The cuffs fitted around his wrists suppressed his chakra from being used. Besides, he was explicitly instructed by his father and clan elders _not_ to fight. For the next week, he was to be completely submissive to Butsuma Senju. After all, the Senju paid a hefty price for his time and the Uchiha desperately needed the money. Or so he was told.

Still, Madara had never expected his father to ever even consider making a deal with the Senju. They were sworn enemies, no matter how broke they were. The Senju had killed three of his brothers-

“Kneel,” Butsuma ordered, coming to a stop in front of Madara. With only a split second of hesitation, the raven boy did as instructed. He bowed onto one knee and lowered his head. His bangs covered the scowl pulling on his lips. His chest filled with bubbling humiliation and shame. Oh, how he wanted to charge forward and gut the Senju clan head. It would be fruitless, he knew, without chakra he wouldn’t stand a chance. Even if he could best the other, he certainly wouldn’t survive the backlash from his clan waiting outside.

Butsuma hummed and walked to stand behind Madara once again. It was as if the man knew how much the boy hated when someone stood behind him. His scowl turned into a sneer, baring tightly clenched teeth. “Do you know why you are here, boy?”

Madara rolled his eyes, of course he did. “Yes.” He hissed, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Tell me.”

Madara took a calming breath and repeated what he had practiced, “because you have requested my presence and I wish to serve you well.” His other clients usually didn’t take this long to get him on his back.

Butsuma chuckled dryly and slammed the sole of his foot into Madara’s back forcing the raven face down onto the mat. He yelped and tensed in preparation for a fight. The man was unyielding and pressed his foot hard enough into Madara’s ribs to prevent him from taking in a deep breath.

“You are wrong.” Butsuma tsked as if correcting a young child. “You are here because you are expendable.” Madara seethed and curled his fingers into the mat. “Your clan needs money and you are a tool to get it. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end.”

“You bastard!” Madara snapped, trying to push himself up by the palms of his hands. This earned him a vicious stomp that took his breath away and quite possibly bruised a rib. Before the raven could recover, Butsuma kneeled to sit atop the boy’s hips, effectively pinning him down.

“Get off!” Madara wheezed, the man was heavy and much too close for comfort. All his carefully memorized instructions were forgotten in that moment. Nothing could prepare Madara for the wraith of the Senju clanhead. And something told him that Butsuma was just getting started.

A kunai was drawn and Madara flinched violently when his shirt was tugged upwards and sliced down the center. His back was exposed to the air and he shivered with anticipation as icy terror pumped through his veins. “What are you doing!?”

“You are aware that the terms of my agreement with your clan are such that I cannot do anything to you that will leave you permanently marred, yes?” Madara trembled as dread filled the room and cotton grew in his throat. “Well, just this once, Tajima has agreed to look the other way. In exchange for a bonus that is.”

All rational left the Uchiha and he began to thrash. His aching ribs were forgotten, and he knew nothing but the intense need to _getaway_. His father would never allow him to be permanently marred by the Senju clanhead, _right_? Madara’s chest tightened with horrible acceptance; his father _would_ allow it - for the right price.

The panic overwhelmed Madara’s senses and he did not feel the prick of a needle. He was alone with the Senju clanhead who had gotten the okay to hurt him. His limbs quickly filled with lead and moving became more and more difficult. Salty tears dripped into his mouth and mixed with the blood seeping from his badly bitten lip.

“No, no, no,” Madara whispered as his limbs twitched to a halt and laid uselessly on the mat.

“There we go,” Butsuma chuckled behind him. Was the bastard _enjoying_ this? Of course he was.

Madara gasped brokenly when the tip of the kunai danced lightly across his shoulder blades. The sedative prevented his tongue from forming words, so he expressed his protests with hisses, growls, and fruitless twitches of his limbs.

“I’ll let your disobedience go this time. But only because you are new to this.” The Senju spoke as if he was doing Madara a favour. Maybe he was. The raven wasn’t entirely certain of anything anymore. “After this, however, I expect you to obey anything and everything that I say without hesitation or protest, am I clear?”

The kunai hesitated at the curve of his right shoulder. It drew small circles there for a moment as if teasing what was to come. “I want you to remember who you are, or rather, _what_ you are,” Butsuma explained as if hearing Madara’s unspoken question. “So, I shall carve it into your back.”

The press of the kunai was _agonizing_. Madara gasped and groaned, but he could not do much else. The knife slowly drew downward, tearing through the skin and muscle of his shoulder. The raven’s vision exploded white and the ringing in his ears became violent. It was unbearable, his chakra rushed desperately below his skin, but he couldn’t use it.

The kunai lifted only to be brought down again in a new spot. Letters. Butsuma was carving letters into his back in a downward diagonal pattern. Madara squeezed his leaking eyes closed and thought back to his training. He was used to pain; the pain was his friend. He had broken bones and torn muscles in battle before. He could handle this as well. He had to.

_Breath in, I am calm. Breath out, I am strong._

The mantra he had taught his younger brothers came to mind. _In the heat of a battle, when you feel terror trying to overcome you, repeat this to yourself over and over until you remember who you are_. His own words felt empty now. His brothers had nodded and thanked him with tight hugs. But now, Madara wasn’t sure that his advice was sound. How could words help him overcome _this_? He felt his very soul being sliced and torn.

The raven drew in a hitched breath, _I am calm,_ and forced it back out, _I am strong._ Again, and again he repeated this. His focus faltered many times, but he kept trying. It didn’t take the pain away, or the heaviness and heat of the other man, but it did give him something to hold onto. Butsuma could do what he wanted with his body, but he couldn’t have his mind. Madara wouldn’t allow it.

Warmblood dripped over his sides and pooled on the mat. There was too much, Madara would lose consciousness if his wounds weren’t treated. The man atop him seemed unaware or uncaring. Butsuma’s free palm pressed against his bloody side, smearing blood in the shape of his fingers.

The final flick of the kunai nudged his hip bone and brought with it blackness edging at his vision. Within seconds, he lost consciousness completely.

He was only out for a few minutes; he jolted awake with a whine and a gasp. The kunai had been tossed aside, but the man was still seated on his hips and he was… _panting_? Another discarded needle told him how he awoke so quickly. He had likely been injected with adrenaline.

“Madara,” Butsuma breathed, his fingers splayed over his bloody back. “Fuck, I wanted to wait, but you look so fucking good like this.”

The regal composure that Butsuma liked to carry was gone and replaced by choppy, deep rumbles, and sweaty hands. Madara’s confusion was cleared up by a roll of the man’s hips. A very apparent erection was pressed against his lower back. The boy’s limbs were still useless and wouldn’t respond despite his growing desperation to move.

Butsuma reached around him and pulled the drawstrings holding Madara’s pants tight to his body. The dark fabric was only tugged down enough to expose his most intimate parts. New terror rippled through Madara as he realized that Butsuma was going to penetrate him. He wasn’t ready! He wasn’t prepped!

A hand drug down his spine, collecting blood which was then spread over the man’s erection. Madara whined and his limbs twitched, but he was ignored. Butsuma lifted the boy’s hips and drove forward with little hesitation. A hard line of agony stabbed between his legs. Sharp pain tore up Madara’s back and he choked on his breath. The brunet groaned and ground down into the body he was fully seated within.

Madara would have screamed if he could, the pain was immense and completely overshadowed the agony of his back wound. He wasn’t a virgin and had plenty of experience with rough men who cared little for his own pleasure, but never before had he been so maliciously raped. The raven tried to relax, but his torn and spasming channel was as unresponsive as his limbs.

“Fuck, you are so tight!” Butsuma gasped, trembling slightly. He rolled out a few inches and then plunged back in. More tears ripped open inside of him and Madara whined brokenly. His eyes ached from crying, but the tears continued to pour down his face. The mantra was useless now. All Madara could do was retreat as far as he could into his mind.

A particularly hard thrust jolted Madara forward and he begged any deity listening to kill him. The money wasn’t worth this, how could his father and the clan elders allow this? It was a question Madara asked himself far too often, but never before had he been so desperate for an answer.

He could play escort and spread his legs for Lords and the clanheads and elders of other clans and his own, but this was different. Had he reached his limit? Had the eternally loyal Madara Uchiha found something that he would not do for his clan? For his brothers?

Butsuma found his release quickly and he stuttered to a stop. He rolled his hips as he came and groaned deep within his chest. Madara spat out bile and sobbed into the mat.

The brunet stayed until he began to soften. He pulled out slowly and watched as blood and cum spilled onto the mat. His aura was one of satisfaction and nausea rolled through the boy.

“I didn’t think you’d be that good of a fuck.” The Senju clan head commented, squeezing Madara’s backside. “I wonder what you could do when not paralyzed. Hmm?” Butsuma leaned down to whisper in the raven’s ear. “Would you be a good boy and ride me?”

Madara squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed brokenly. Butsuma chuckled and pulled back to sit on his haunches.

The events that followed blurred slightly. Warm, wet rags were placed over his back. They were replaced several times before a towel was used to dry his wounds. His torn nerve endings hardly registered the subpar cleaning. Several large pieces of gauze were spread across his back and then taped down. Finally, Butsuma pressed a palm under

Madara’s chest and forced him back to sit onto his ankles.

The man balanced Madara with one hand and began to wrap his torso with the other. The rough material was uncomfortable and pulled too tight, but it was better than bleeding out.

Or was it?

Madara’s fingers twitched, and he wondered how long the paralytic would last. With the bandages fully in place, Butsuma threw a few towels onto the mat to absorb the blood left there and pushed Madara back down onto his chest. The raven was dancing on the edge of consciousness while his wrists were snatched and tied together behind his back with the remaining bandages.

“I’ll be back,” Butsuma promised, leaving with the kunai, syringes, and bloody towels.

x.X.x

Madara was jolted awake several hours later to the raw stinging of his wounds. He sucked in a breath and quickly realized that breathing too deeply agitated his back. His wrists were damp from blood seeping through the bandages and he restlessly tugged on his bindings.

The paralytic was still oozing through his veins, slowing down his movements, but he could now move a little.

“That looks like it hurts.”

Madara flinched violently and hissed at the responding pain. He craned his head back to look over his shoulder at Butsuma.

“This will take away the pain,” the Senju clanhead showed Madara a little container of ointment. “Do you want this?”

Madara frowned and dropped his head back down onto his cheek. “Yes.” His voice was hoarse, and his tongue felt heavy.

“What are you willing to do for it?”

Madara’s temper flared, “haven’t I done enough?” His voice broke on the last word and he grit his teeth. “What do you want from me?”

Butsuma stepped around him and kneeled by his face. The brunet smiled down at Madara and slowly spun the container around in his fingers – teasing him. “How about I give you a choice, hmm? Either you get on your knees and put your mouth to good use, or I leave you here alone for the next 24 hours.”

Madara gaped at him, he couldn’t be serious. That wasn’t a _choice_. He would probably bleed out within 24 hours; his wounds were clearly not dealt with properly.

“I-I can’t move.”

“Oh, well I can help with that.”

Vicious fingers plunged into Madara’s hair and yanked him upwards. His scalp burned and in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain he forced his knees under him. Pain exploded out along his back and he felt several streams of blood collect on his bound hands.

“Is that better?” Butsuma was standing in front of him now. The crotch of his pants inches from his face. Madara couldn’t turn his head away. The Senju tapped a finger against the top of the ointment, “don’t forget what your reward will be.”

x.X.x

On the seventh day, Madara passed out on the floor of his room. He awoke hours later bent over the shoulder of a Senju shinobi. His eyes, ears, and mouth were covered, but he could still tell they were racing through the forest at high speed.

His back felt better than it had all week. There was a tautness that revealed his wounds had been properly stitched and the lack of wetness suggested proper bandaging. The pain was dulled, and he struggled to remember the events of the previous night. It was mostly a blur.

He grimaced against a sudden stab of pain as his carrier dropped to the ground. His body slid down the shinobi’s front and he barely managed to catch himself on his feet. The gag was yanked away first and then the blindfold and ear covering were taken at once. Madara’s eyes promptly snapped open, but the shinobi were already gone. He blamed the chakra seal for his slow reflexes.

That was a little strange. Were they waiting for him to wake up so they could drop him off?

His eyes flickered around, absorbing his surroundings. He only managed to take in how dark it was before a wave of nauseous brought him to his knees.

The Uchiha grimaced and brought a hand to his churning stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything during the time he spent at the Senju compound, it was amazing he stayed conscious as much as he did.

Taking a moment to breathe in several mouthfuls of air, Madara managed to quell the worst of the nausea.

The dizziness that followed was unexpected and pulled all strength from his limbs. Without grace, he fell onto his shoulder and uselessly tried to push unconsciousness from capturing him. He was in the middle of the forest, without chakra or weapons. He needed to stay awake.

He needed to stay awake.

_He needed_ …

Madara’s eyes snapped open and then he immediately squeezed them shut against the sun. He was still at the Naka river, trapped in his own mind. It had been a dream, or rather, a memory.

So, _that_ is what was behind mental barrier number one.

Fuck, it would have been nice to forget that for good. He rolled onto his side to alleviate the phantom pain from his back. He couldn’t ever tell Hashirama. It would be too cruel. The brunet would never forgive himself.

x.X.x

Hashirama had gotten into the habit of wandering out of the compound in the early morning hours. His father had been _distracted_ lately and thus he had more free reign than usual. Tobirama had warned him to be careful and while he appreciated his brother’s concern, he enjoyed being surrounded by trees as the sun crested the horizon even more.

He walked at a leisurely pace; his mind pleasantly blank. The birds sang him a melody from above and he smiled at the easiness in which he blended into the environment.

Hashirama was still struggling to come to terms with the god-like powers he did not ask for. However, he was grateful for the connection he had with the Earth. The Mokuton whispered secrets to him when he couldn’t sleep and promised to protect him when he was scared. He had little control over it yet, but the more he practiced the more in tune he was with the forest.

He felt at peace there. The trees weren’t interested in fighting or war. There wasn’t any conflict about land. If the roots of two trees neared each other, they simply intertwined and coexisted instead of fighting for dominance.

The foliage gradually parted to make way for the water softly moving nearby. Hashirama’s feet automatically brought him closer to the river. It was his usual destination during these walks. The water always helped him calm his mind. It was as if the water washed away his worries.

The brunet stepped close to the shore and inhaled the crisp morning air. There was a hint of a different scent and Hashirama tilted his head in confusion. He looked around as he sniffed again. It smelled like blood, but he couldn’t see anyone. He cautiously stepped closer to the river and questioned the trees. Recognition hit him like a ton of bricks when they answered.

“Madara?” He was already bounding across the water.

Just within the tree line, the Uchiha was stretched out on his side, his hair spilling around him. His chakra was so small the trees almost didn’t recognize him, and the trees _always_ recognized Madara.

_Madara, Madara, Madara_ , they would sing to him. But now, the trees around the Uchiha were gravely silent. They were stiff in the wind, not moving.

“Madara?” Hashirama said again as he kneeled beside his friend. A thick cloak blanketed his entire body, making him look little more than a black clump in the distance.

Finally, after a few more shakes, Madara’s eyelashes fluttered. His eyes widened and he tensed, but when he realized who had woken him, he melted back into the ground. “Hashirama…”

“What are you doing out here?” Hashirama couldn’t bring himself to reclaim his hand from Madara’s shoulder. Something felt wrong.

“Just…resting.” It was a horrible excuse and the raven made it worse by averting his gaze. It was daylight, he needed to get home before his father came looking for him.

“Resting? Out in the open? That doesn’t seem like you, are you ok-?”

“I’m fine.” The Uchiha sat up slowly and pulled away.

“But-.”

“I am fine, Hashirama. I have to go.” His voice was hard, but there was no real bite to it.

They had only met twice before, Hashirama didn’t know enough about his friend to push the subject. Instead, he stood as well and watched the raven glance around, as if figuring out where he was. That was, _odd_.

They locked eyes for a split second and then Madara was gone.

In hindsight, Hashirama couldn’t imagine what had happened to Madara that night. He had looked so lost and defeated. Was that the night that he was carved by a Senju? Hashirama’s heightened senses told him there was blood, but there wasn’t any on the ground where Madara had been laying. That meant the blood had been _on_ him.

They never discussed the incident. Hashirama never followed up and, _fuck_ , he should have.

The slow rise and fall of Madara’s chest blurred as tears built in Hashirama’s eyes. Tobirama was sitting in the observation room, looking through a set of scrolls he’d brought from the archives.

Hashirama didn’t care enough to ask what he was doing. At that moment, he only cared about the rise and fall of Madara’s chest. He was alive and he was still in there.

If there was a way to bring Butsuma back to life, he would. If only just to kill him again. This time, making him suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question!  
> How long should Madara stay unconscious? And what will he do when he wakes up? Will he attack? Will he panic?


	9. The Depth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags

**The Depth**

“Madara, how are you?”

The young boy was sitting in almost the same position he had been the first day she saw him. His knees were drawn up to his chest with only his eyes visible through his unruly hair.

“Tired,” he mumbled, not turning to her. Ino expected him to be withdrawn and thus didn’t immediately try to keep him talking. Instead, she slowly lowered herself to sit beside him. Quietly, she allowed him a few moments to get used to her presence.

It had been over twelve hours since Sakura revealed the extend of the scarring on Madara’s body, but it wasn’t enough. Internally Ino was still reeling at the reality of Madara’s situation. Every time she thought he couldn’t have gone through more; she was proven wrong.

And by a _Senju_? That wasn’t proven, yet; it was possible someone else carved that symbol into Madara’s body to cover their identity. Regardless, whoever it was, they had continuous access to Madara. The carvings on his body were carved over more than once. Perhaps to keep the wounds fresh so the young Uchiha wouldn’t forget.

“I’m sorry,”

The wind briefly brushed his hair out of his face and Ino felt the urge to pull him close and smooth out the pained lines of his tight expression.

“For what?”

“Causing so much trouble last time.”

“You didn’t cause any trouble, Madara,” Ino kept her voice calm and inviting. She hadn’t expected him to breach the topic of his panic attack on his own. It was encouraging, he wanted to air out his pain.

“I did though!” He grimaced, “I tried to stop it, but it just kept getting worse.”

Madara was trying to explain himself almost as if he expected to be reprimanded.

“Madara,” she called softly, he still didn’t look at her, but she knew he was listening, “you have nothing to apologize for. I am sorry that I couldn’t do something to help you sooner.”

His eyes were brimming with confusion when they finally met hers. She smiled softly and continued, “you had a panic attack. It isn’t your fault, sometimes our emotions become too overwhelming and we don’t know how to cope.”

He tilted his head to the side; Ino learned that he did this when considering something. “Tajima said that shinobi control their emotions.”

“I think that shinobi especially have a difficult time with their emotions because they see and go through so much,”

Madara watched the river slowly slip by as he absorbed her words. “So, what do I do? When my emotions become overwhelming?”

“Well, you could try to talk through them.”

“With you?”

Ino nodded, “you can always talk to me if you want to.”

The boy nervously fidgeted and bit his lower lip. It stood to reason that if Tajima told Madara that shinobi controlled their emotions that he never allowed his son to _be_ emotional. It wasn’t healthy for anyone to bottle up their feelings, let alone a child.

“I…” Madara appeared to be fighting one hell of an internal battle. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel the need to talk about what he was feeling inside. This was the first time, however, that someone offered to listen. He almost expected her to lash out and mock him, but his heart told him she wouldn’t.

“I know that it can be intimidating talking about these things. You don’t have to.” Ino soothed.

“I think,” Madara paused, and his eyes flickered across the ground, looking for an answer, “I think I want to.” His gaze then snapped to her, looking for confirmation that it was still okay.

Ino nodded and kept her features soft. “Then I will listen.”

He continued to hesitate, and Ino figured that it had something to do with his father. What else did Tajima say to him? Or _neglect_ to say to him?

“The seal,” he whispered, his voice tight. “I’ve…I’ve had one before.”

“A chakra seal?” Ino didn’t let her internal frown show. “Just like the one on you now?”

“Well, it was a little different. It could be turned on and off.”

Ino had heard about seals like that. They were often used on prisoners of war.

“Who turned it on and off?”

“Tajima and Butsuma.” His answers were beginning to flow much smoother and Ino chose her words carefully to keep him feeling secure enough to keep talking.

“Tajima and Butsuma,” she repeated slowly, why would the _head of the Senju clan_ have access to something like that? “why would they turn your chakra off?”

“If I misbehaved or-or they didn’t want me to fight.” His eyes fell closed as if he were trying to shut out the mental images.

Ino was quick to make the connection. “And you panicked because you thought this new seal was the same?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed, “I almost died last time! It hurt so much.” He grimaced against the memories. “But Hashirama said this one is temporary, right? It won’t hurt me?”

“That is correct. It is not permanent, and it will not hurt you.” There were so many questions Ino wanted to ask, but it was more important that she allow Madara to speak at his own pace. If she were to ask about something he didn’t want to talk about he might shut down.

“Oh, okay, that’s good.”

It was interesting that Madara didn’t seem concerned about getting the seal _off_ , only that it didn’t hurt him.

When the silence stretched on and the tension lingered in Madara’s shoulders. Ino ventured a prompting question, hoping to encourage him to continue.

“I didn’t know you knew Butsuma.”

“Yeah. I spent more time with him than I did with Tajima.” He breathed a soft chuckle, “I even had my own room in his house.”

That was _very_ odd. “Your own room?”

“Yeah. There wasn’t really anything in it but a couple of mats, but it was still mine, I guess.”

“Did your father know you were in the Senju compound?”

“Well, _yeah_ , he was the one who sent me there. That’s how we made money.”

Ino felt her heart clench, “Butsuma paid to see you?”

“Of course, they all did.” His eyes followed a leaf slowly drift down to the surface of the river.

“Madara, I don’t know what you mean.” She _feared_ what he meant.

He didn’t hesitate before explaining. _He wanted someone to know_. “Someone would pay the Uchiha money and then I would go and do whatever they wanted. I used to see a lot of different people but then Butsuma paid extra to keep me to himself. I spent a week out of every month at the Senju compound.”

The easy way the words slipped from him spoke volumes about what _normal_ was to the boy. He was used to being sold to strangers for money.

Tajima was a monster.

“Madara…did they hurt you?” She already knew the answer, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, sometimes,” he grimaced, “it hurt when they didn’t do it right. But only Butsuma was _allowed_ to hurt me and only that once.”

“It hurt when they didn’t do what right?” She needed to be absolutely sure that he was telling her what she thought he was.

“Prep me. Like before sex? Ya know the stretching. Sometimes they didn’t do it at all, and I wasn’t allowed to do it myself.”

Ino bit her lip and blinked away any rising tears before they could fall. “I am so sorry you went through that Madara.”

He shrugged, “it’s okay, I stopped seeing the mean ones after Butsuma bought me.”

“No, Madara,” she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she reveled at how clear his eyes were. The glaze that made them look glassy was receding. “I mean all of it. You should have never been sent to have sex with anyone.”

The raven raised an eyebrow and his nose scrunched in confusion. “Why? Isn’t that what heirs are supposed to do? I brought in a lot of money.”

Ino shook her head, “No, that isn’t what anyone is supposed to do.”

He turned away but didn’t try to shrug off her hand and Ino didn’t pull it back. “So, you don’t think Hashirama ever…?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why did Butsuma-?” He stumbled over a few inaudible words, “he didn’t fuck Hashirama either? Tajima made me-…”

Ino squeezed his shoulder as he trailed off. It was likely that Tajima isolated Madara to the point of only being exposed to his abusers. Madara doesn’t know that what he was doing was wrong because he didn’t know anything else.

“Did Tajima rape you too?”

“Rape… what is that?”

“It is when someone has sex with you, and you don’t want it.”

“Oh, yeah, he did.”

It was amazing the ease in which Madara admitted this. He didn’t know it was wrong, he might as well be talking about his part-time job at a shop. He understood that he didn’t want to have sex with those people, but he did it anyway because that was what he thought he was supposed to do.

“Were you the only one expected to do that?”

“Well, no…,” he looked conflicted, “my brothers were _going_ to do it too but I pretended that I really liked it so they didn’t have to.”

“You protected them, that is amazing, Madara.”

The boy shrugged and nuzzled his face a little deeper into his knees. “Well, they died anyway so it was pointless.”

“I wouldn’t say it was pointless.” Ino began, her thumb rubbed circles against his shoulder. “you prevented them from suffering while they were alive.”

“I guess.”

Madara’s shoulders slumped and he seemed intent on curling completely into himself. It reminded Ino that he was a _child_. He may have the memories of an adult, but he couldn’t comprehend them as one.

“Ino?”

“Yes, Madara.”

“If what I did wasn’t normal…what does that make me?”

“A survivor.”

That seemed to solve some unspoken problem he was working through, but there was still one thing he was holding back. She could tell by the way he tilted his head and stared unseeingly ahead.

“Does it count…if I pretended to want it? Even if I didn’t want it on the inside?”

“Does it count as rape?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, it still counts.”

There was another long moment of thoughtful silence. Ino didn’t dare interrupt it because she wanted Madara to absorb what she was saying. He needed to understand that what happened to him was not okay.

“Please don’t tell Hashirama.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that.

“Why don’t you want Hashirama to know?”

“He might think I’m-,” he made a face of disgust, “gross.”

“You are not gross, Madara.” It seemed that her assumption had been correct. Madara didn’t trust Hashirama to want to be around him if he knew the truth. Madara would rather hide himself and keep Hashirama.

“But I did all of that-!”

“It was done _to_ you. You didn’t want it.”

“Yeah, but I stopped fighting after a while and-.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“But-.”

“If you didn’t want it then it was rape.”

When their eyes met again, his were watery. Ino held his gaze and let him search her face for deceit. It had finally clicked. He understood.

“I didn’t want it,” Madara confirmed in a broken whisper.

Ino only had to open her arms and the boy was crashing into her. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs and buried her face in the crook of her neck.

“I didn’t want it.” He whispered again.

“I know,” Ino replied, stroking his back with the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t help but imagine the marks that lie beneath his clothes, or did they? When were the marks made? Was he already suffering at such a young age?

“Madara, when did all this start?”

“My birthday.” His voice was hardly audible

“Which one?”

“Fifteenth.” 

She would ask about the scars another time. Given that he confirmed Butsuma was involved likely implied that he was responsible. Though, who knew how many other Senju were allowed access to him.

“You have been suffering for a long time, Madara. I want to help you get through this.”

The fourth great shinobi war wasn’t started by only Madara. Tajima and Butsuma played a massive role, even after their deaths. Ino wouldn’t allow Madara to be the scapegoat for the crimes of many.

“Does that mean you’ll keep coming by?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “and Hashirama will too.”

Madara peeked up at her, “really? Even after-.”

“He understands, Madara. He’s worried about you, ya know.”

He looked conflicted at this. “Can I…can I see him now?”

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little heavy, the next will be lighter. Let me know which character you want to be the main subject of the next chapter.  
> Do you want Hashirama's take on everything? Tobirama? Ino? Ibiki? Let me know!


	10. I want your input!

Hey, guys!

If you’re still interested in this story, first of all thank you! And also, I would like your input!

I did not intend to go on hiatus but some drama involving this story really put me off of it. I have not lost interest and I still want to continue with this concept. However, I am a little torn about what direction I should go. If you can, please let me know which of these options you like the best!

  1. Make a prequel of sorts where we see an in-depth look at how the three founders grew up (still Madara-centric).
  2. Continue this story from where it is with a time-travel concept that propels the three founders into the past to when they were teenagers (but with all their adult memories)
  3. Continue the story from where it is with Madara temporarily physically turning into an eleven-year-old version of himself.
  4. Literally anything else



If you have other ideas, please let me know! I really want to continue with this and see it through to the end.

Also, do ya’ll prefer shorter more frequent chapters or longer less frequent chapters?


	11. Part 2 - Ch. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, ya'll! The support I got from the last update was just amazing and I appreciate you guys so much. Each and every comment made me so happy. I am still super interested in this story and I hope this chapter strengthens my desire to share with you.
> 
> I would like to point out that Sasuke and Naruto did not get their superpowers during the war because they did not get that far. Also, neither did Madara for the same reason. Just wanted to clear that up.
> 
> I am dubbing these new chapters as PART 2 because of reasons.

_“Villains are just like people; they scream just as loud, but no one hears them.”_

**Part 2 – Chapter 1**

Sakura sits quietly on the plush window seat. The warm night air coming in through the open window gently tussles her hair and cools her steaming tea. She gazes out at the night lights of Konoha with a tight, forlorn expression. Shouts and giggles echo from the kids roaming the streets below, but she cannot hear it over her raging thoughts.

From behind, a figure shuffles over and sits across from the pinkette. Ino has her own mug cupped between her hands and she looks equally as troubled, however, there is a distinct difference between their concerns. Silence reigns between the two women for a while. They are both lost in thought and simply draw familiar comfort from the presence of the other.

The day had been long and filled with trepidation and confusion. Sakura had examined a man she had been trying so hard to kill a mere week earlier. The protective walls looming around the village are a constant stark reminder of who it is they are dealing with and the catastrophic potential he holds just by _being alive_. Sakura has so many questions to ask she doesn’t know which one to start with.

Eventually, the question picks itself, “how long have you been treating him?”

Ino takes the inquiry in stride and answers without turning from the window, “since the war ended.”

Sakura’s eyes snap to her friend with frantic concern, “Ino, he’s _dangerous_.”

“I know he is,” comes the blonde’s soft reply. Ino had expected this conversation to happen eventually. She had prepared for nearly every inquiry that could be asked of her. What she hadn’t prepared for was the refreshing relief that came with someone else knowing what she spends her days doing. It is nice and helps alleviate the feeling of separateness she has been feeling.

“What exactly is your role? You said he has been unconscious for days.”

Ino nods and sips her tea, “yes. He physically has not breached consciousness, but that does not mean his mind is inactive-,”

“You’ve gone into his head!?” Sakura’s tea splashes out of her cup as she jolts forward. “Are you insane? It could be a trap; he could be waiting to execute some sort of jutsu we don’t know about and severe you from your body permanently! He is unstable, Ino! We don’t know what he is capable of!”

Ino calmly regards her friend and allows Sakura to vent her frustrations, Ino knows she would be doing the same if their positions were switched. “His chakra levels are constantly being monitored. He doesn’t have enough chakra available to even activate the Sharingan.” Ino explains.

Sakura makes a sound of frustration, “and do you think that’s enough? He used susano’o without eyes, Ino!”

“I know you’re worried,” Ino sighs, setting hers and Sakura’s tea down so she can hold Sakura’s hands. “And I really appreciate it. But I think what I am doing is right. I…I can’t really explain it…but something in me is telling me this is what I am supposed to be doing.”

Sakura sighs as well and looks down at their intertwined fingers. “Ino…is it possible you are still trying to save your father?” Sakura is the only person in Ino’s life who could or would ever ask something so emotionally charged.

Ino closes her eyes; she has asked herself the same question many times amongst the chaos of the past week or so. She knows that helping Madara, even if she was somehow successful would never bring her father back. But still, she feels compelled to help.

“Do you remember those healers we met on our trip to water country a few years back?” Ino asks, her voice small and reflective.

“Yeah, the ones who lived up in the mountains?”

“Yeah. They…they healed everyone. At the end of a battle, wounded Shinobi from both sides would go to them to be healed knowing that they would not be judged for their actions. I..I believe in what they stand for.”

Sakura silently listens to Ino’s explanation. Her thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles over Ino’s knuckles.

“I know that part of the reason I want to help him is driven by my curiosity. I can’t help but think of Sasuke and how his past shaped his future and I wonder if Madara’s past did the same. And…,” she looks up at Sakura, allowing her friend to see the tears brimming behind her lashes, “the things he has been through, Sakura.”

“That doesn’t justify what he has done,” the pinkette affirms, lifting a hand to wipe away a falling tear.

“I know it doesn’t. I am not trying to find reason for him to be acquitted. I want to prevent someone like him from ever being created again.”

Sakura sighs, ready to concede for now. If only for the sake of her friend and her fresh grief. Ino is in a fragile state, that much is obvious. Right now, she needs support, not resistance. “Okay. As long as you are never alone with him…I think I can somewhat be okay with this.”

Ino smiles and leans forward until their foreheads knock together. “I really think I am doing the right thing.”

“I believe you.”

x.X.x

To say the Shinobi world is in an uproar would be an understatement.

Konoha has received threatening missives from every Shinobi village and while no one has physically tried to come to Konoha and take Madara, it is only a matter of time before someone does. Some want to see his body strung up on a tall pike, others want him alive so they can torture him until death. The more merciful ones want to study his body and do not care if he is alive or dead. 

There is no way Tsunade can appease everyone, and while she has Shinobi constantly monitoring the borders, they couldn’t win against multiple Shinobi forces invading their land.

Truthfully, Tsunade has no problem handing over the Ghost of the Uchiha. She agrees that he should be dead and hung for all to see. However, the current obstacles in her way are too large for her to overcome. Each Kage is sent the same letter.

The late Lord First and Lord Second and, increasing, Lord Fourth, are adamant that Uchiha Madara remains alive, unharmed, and in Konoha’s custody. Unfortunately, this means without a doubt that he will remain this way. Hashirama alone is strong enough to potentially wipe out Konoha and likely a good deal of any opposing forces. However, with his brother at his side and Lord Fourth become more and more convinced that they are in the right, there is little anyone can do to challenge them.

Konoha Shinobi are on edge and threats of an uprising are ever prevalent. This leaves Tsunade in a horrible position and she isn’t quite sure how to progress forward. Right now, they know exactly where Madara is, and that is about all she can ask for. However, she feels that Hashirama is a single push away from taking the Uchiha and fleeing into the forest where no one could find them. She needs to prevent this from happening or they may lose their hold on the Uchiha forever.

x.X.x

Tobirama is a man of logic. He assesses things from the standpoint of variables rather than emotions and he makes decisions backed by empirical evidence. Hashirama on the other hand, is the more emotional of the two. The opposing skills the brothers hold make them an unstoppable force.

They broke through a century-long feud and created peace upon the scorched battlegrounds of their ancestors. It seems, though, that their good intentions weren’t good for everyone.

Tobirama has made poor decisions in the past and he is beginning to realize that he may have made more errors than he previously assumed.

The desk he has temporarily claimed as his own is covered in freshly written papers he had penned himself. Every decision he had made in his past life that involved the Uchiha was detailed and categorized on the pages.

Every once in a while he will look up to check on his brother, who is adamant that someone should stay in the room with Madara so that he doesn’t feel alone. It is a ridiculous notion and Tobirama was sure to inform his brother of this, however, Hashirama was undeterred.

Tobirama has avoided looking at Madara at all costs and he tells himself it is to keep from becoming distracted but…

There is only so much he can do to pretend the twisting is his gut is not guilt. The young Yamanaka has continued to report to him and Hashirama about her findings and…he doesn’t know how to feel.

In their past life, Madara was cold and distant. Tobirama figured this was because of his brothers’ death at his own hands, but it appears there was something else there. Something that both he and Hashirama had missed. But, it was incredibly unlikely that the Uchiha clan had missed it.

That is where Tobirama finds his most recent frustrating stalemate. Each clan had their own traditions and morals and the Uchiha were just as vocal about theirs as any other clan. The Uchiha did not take prisoners of war. They did not rape or align themselves with those who did. Or so they wanted everyone to believe. How could the Uchiha publicly maintain such a strict moral code yet behave so differently without anyone realizing it? Perhaps the Uchiha didn’t know what was going on either?

Figuring this puzzle out would be so much easier if there were still Uchiha alive to speak to. Right now, they only had Madara and the one Uchiha remaining, who was far too young to know much about the founding of the village.

Madara is an unreliable narrator at present. He may still have his memories, but as the Yamanaka stated, those memories are being filtered through an eleven-year-old’s mind. They needed Madara to wake up as an adult. But, would adult Madara be so open to speaking about his past?

Tobirama sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. The situation is far too detached from the logical problems he thrives at dealing with. Madara is the unknown, but within that unknown are thousands of variables. Looking back at how the village was created and developed, it seems inevitable that a coup would eventually be formed and Tobirama takes partial responsibility for that because he knows the Senju would have done the same if their positions were swapped.

It is what happened after Tobirama and Hashirama’s deaths that caused the most problems, but Hiruzen was Tobirama’s student, does that make him partially guilty for his actions as well?

He glances up once again to look at his brother. He is quietly sitting beside Madara’s stretcher – when has Hashirama ever sat quietly? It is heartbreaking to see his brother so unhappy and Tobirama feels drawn to try to ease his suffering.

Tobirama’s joints are not stiff and do not pop when he stands, reminding him that he has a new body. He silently walks around the separating wall and enters Madara’s room – cell. The air feels sharper in there and the distinct scent of hospital equipment makes him feel a little queasy. Pushing past his discomfort, Tobirama walks into the room and over to his brother.

He slides to the ground beside Hashirama without a word. Hashirama is not kneading chakra, but still, there is a thick aura of sadness wrapped around the Senju. Hashirama has only been in this kind of state once in Tobirama’s flawless recollection. The previous time occurred after Madara’s death. And Hashirama never recovered from it.

“Elder Brother,” Tobirama prompts, softly.

Hashirama blinks and turns his head slightly to look at him. He considers what to say, Tobirama can see the gears turning in his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

The way he says it is so uncharacteristic that Tobirama is left speechless. Tobirama is not immune to his brother’s prestigious position amongst Shinobi. Hashirama is the God of Shinobi, after all, he created peace, he brought the Great Nations together, he… _is only human_. Sometimes it is easy to forget this and Tobirama allows himself a moment to remind himself of his brother’s mortality.

Hashirama isn’t just human, he is a war-torn traumatized soldier who has been forced into a position of power that no one is qualified for. Tobirama has always done his best to ensure Hashirama never lost sight of his goals and what he was trying to achieve. But now, what is it that they are striving for? What are they after?

Their village is one step away from becoming their enemy and they do not have the Senju clan at their back this time. This is even more of a reason for the brothers to double down and stick to their beliefs. They cannot bend to anyone’s will – even to the will of fire.

“I am not certain how to proceed either,” Tobirama admits, reaching out to place a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder. “I do not know what the future holds for us.”

Hashirama’s brows crinkle and very real tears build behind his lashes. “I feel like we are under Father’s hold again. Each day comes with the promise of death, but we don’t know which day it will truly arrive.”

Tobirama closes his eyes, he remembers very well what it was like when their father was alive.

“We are not safe here,” Hashirama continues, taking a deep shaky breath, “but we need Ino’s help to bring Madara out of this.” His dark eyes move to fix upon the Uchiha’s resting profile. “And I refuse to endanger her life any more than we already have.”

Tobirama’s hand falls back into his lap and his gaze lowers to the floor. “I agree,” they are most certainly _not_ safe in Konoha – not while they are standing with Madara. They are immensely powerful Shinobi, but they do not know what types of jutsu have been created since their deaths. They may have something that could counter the Mokuton and if so, their greatest defense could be compromised.

“Our best chance,” – if this is battle, which it very well might end of being –, “is to leave Konoha with Madara and find somewhere to hide.” But Madara’s fragile state could decline at any moment. “Preferably near a small village with decent healers. We could alter our appearances enough to keep from being detected.”

“You want to leave Konoha?” Hashirama’s voice is so small, Tobirama’s heart breaks a little.

How ironic that they are considering doing the same thing Madara did so many years ago. Did Madara think the same thoughts before he left? Did he feel unsafe here? He must have. And Tobirama can see how much that hurts his brother.

“Yes,” Tobirama’s voice is soft and certain, “perhaps we can find a way to learn the technique the Yamanaka was using and utilize it ourselves.

Unable to speak as the tears break and stream down his face, Hashirama nods his acceptance and agreement.

Sometime soon, they need to relocate.

x.X.x

Ino leaves her home before the break of dawn, as she always does. She dresses in civilian clothing but uses her stealth skills to slip through the streets unnoticed. The Hokage tower looms in the distance and she quickly closes in. Madara has been increasingly responsive to her questions, but there is always something just on the edge of his words that she can’t seem to bring him to discuss.

If her research has proven fruitful, she might be able to reach that unknown today.   
A clone of Lord Second lets her into the underground rooms with a nod and Ino silently moves through the complicated corridors. After her conversation with Sakura, she feels more sure of herself than ever. The answer to war has never been more war. Her father’s sacrifice will not be wasted with more useless fighting.

Tobirama and Hashirama are in the same spots they almost always are. There is a familiarity between the three of them now and she greets them with a short good morning.

She sets her notes down on the table inside Madara’s room and she checks the vitals displayed on the many monitors around the unconscious Uchiha. He is physically doing well, and she jots this down.

Under the watchful eyes of both brother’s she checks Madara’s pupils and gently pushes a small amount of chakra into his brain to test the basic neural connections in his frontal cortex. It is imperative that they ensure he doesn’t suffer some sort of brain damage or neural decline. There is still some considerable damage to his psyche, but physically, his brain is completely normal.

Then, she settles herself at Madara’s side, beside Hashirama.

“Is Ibiki-san not joining us today?” Hashirama questions her as she gets ready for the day’s session.

“He will later on. He has a meeting with Tsunade-sama, and he will check in afterward.”

Hashirama nods and turns his attention back to Madara. He likes to remain close by in case Madara asks for him. Otherwise, he stays silent, allowed Ino to begin uninterrupted.

Ino seamlessly weaves the appropriate hand signs and extends her hands in Madara’s direction. Days of using this jutsu has made it easier for her to create a connection between her and the Uchiha. There is still a hint of her own chakra lingering alongside Madara’s from their previous session.

The world turns black and she is once again floating amongst the broken shards of Madara’s psyche. The pieces are getting bigger, she notes. Slowly, events are coming together to create large sections of his memories and personality. It is a very good sign and it shows that there is a point in which he will properly awaken soon.

The personification of Madara is located in the farthest corner of Madara’s mind. It is tucked away behind the worst of the mental carnage and that is where Ino goes. She moves through the sharp shards of glass and reaches out for the small flame that is the young Madara’s lifeforce.

She reaches.

And reaches.

But she cannot find the little sparkle of light. Focusing her energy, she reaches further and further.

And then, something goes very wrong.

Someone – or something – invisible grabs Ino and _yanks_.

A massive amount of chakra is sucked from her and she immediately lifts her hand to break the connection. She comes plummeting out of Madara’s mind with a sharp gasp and she finds herself sprawled against Hashirama’s chest.

“What happened?” She hears him ask through the ringing in her ears. Her gaze promptly snaps to Madara’s body, who is now glowing with sickly black and grey chakra.

“He took my chakra,” Ino gasps out. And Hashirama immediately summons a collection of wooden columns from the ground to siphon the chakra back out of Madara’s body before he can use it. This is not unusual, this has happened before, but never quite as extreme – never this much chakra. And never so _deliberately_.

The wooden columns are just a split second too late and a blast of boiling hot air rolls off of him. Hashirama quickly wraps thick wooden vines completely around him to protect them from the hot air. Tobirama is suddenly there as well, quickly cooling the heat that did escape with a quick suiton. 

Ino pulls herself forward, away from Hashirama’s chest, and tries to access the connection between them once again. It is still there, and it is strong. So Madara has not broken completely. But then….what has happened?

The blast of chakra is short-lived and soon dies out completely. Leaving Madara’s form as drained of chakra as it had been previously. Ino stumbles to her feet and reaches towards the wood. Her shoulder is grabbed before she can make contact, she looks back at Tobirama with confusion.

“Something has changed,” he explains, eyes fixed on the wooden casing around the Uchiha. Hashirama walks up beside Ino and he softly places his hand on the side of the containment.

The wood parts under his palm and they get a glimpse of what has transpired inside. The inner walls of wood are scorched and badly charred. The leads that had been attached to Madara’s body have disintegrated into nothing and the edges of the metal table are melted and still red hot.

Madara, however, is no longer laying on the bed.

In fact, adult Madara is not there anymore at all.

In his place is a small boy, standing on the other side of the bed, looking up at them with teary terrified eyes.

Ino moves without hesitation, stepping forward and opening her arms, “Madara,”

He jolts forward and collapses against her chest, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. His body is really warm, and he is trembling. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I didn’t mean to-!”

“It’s okay,” Ino cuts him off before he causes himself to start spiraling, she runs a hand up and down his back, “it’s okay, no one was hurt.”

Hashirama and Tobirama are frozen in place. They both stare down at the black spiky hair visible over Ino’s shoulder. How the hell did he do that?

Madara’s concerns dissipate against Ino’s shoulder as he takes a few deep breaths. She continues to hold him, and she softly strokes through his tangled hair.

The situation is absolutely surreal and despite Ino putting on a confident face, she is immensely concerned about the current developments.

How the hell did Madara’s physical body transform in such a way? How is that possible?

Another very prominent distinction is that Madara is taller than he had been during their previous session. He is now almost as tall as she is. 

When the boy seems calm enough, Ino asks, “how old are you, Madara?”

“fourteen,” he replies, voice muffled by her shoulder.

Hashirama inhales sharply and Ino deliberately clears her throat afterward to distract Madara. She needs Hashirama and Tobirama to calm themselves down before they interact with him. She can feel their unsteady chakra and she is currently wrapping Madara up with her own to keep him from feeling it as well.

Ino isn’t sure how much Madara’s skills have developed in the three-year time gap, but considering his abilities were already sharp at eleven, she can only assume he is even stronger now – even without access to his chakra.

Tobirama is the first to gather himself and he backs up a few steps to give Ino and Madara some space. He puts himself in the doorway, both to keep any unwanted guest from entering and seeing the child but also to prevent Madara from suddenly sprinting out of the room.

Hashirama follows suit shortly after and backs up a few steps.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Ino asks the child, encouraging – but not forcing – him to lift his head to look up at her.

Madara shakes his head silently and willingly lifts his face away from Ino’s shoulder. His cheeks are damp with tears and his eyes are red. The two men behind her immediately draw his attention and he tenses in Ino’s arm.

Ino hushes him and continues to stroke his hair, “it’s okay, they are not going to hurt you.” 

She waits until he relaxes a little to continue, “do you recognize them?”

He should. If Ino remembers correctly, he was eleven when he first met Hashirama, and shortly afterward, he fought the Senju for the first time – thus seeing Tobirama. However, they were children then.

“N-no,” he stutters, his eyes flicker between the brothers continuously, nervously.

“That’s Hashirama-sama and his brother, Tobirama-sama.”

Madara’s gaze immediately snaps to Hashirama, and the older man smiles softly.

A tense moment of silence passes, and he whispers, “where are we?”

“Somewhere safe-,” Hashirama tries to assure him.

“-I don’t feel safe!” Madara demands, chest heaving with heavier breaths. Ino immediately recognizes the signs of an impending panic attack.

“No one will hurt you while we are here, Madara,” Ino directs his face towards hers and ensures he is looking at her when she says this, “I never will let anyone hurt you.”

Hashirama and Tobirama’s plan is now not possible, not without some adjustments.

They cannot let anyone see Madara like this. Not only is he _awake_ , but he is an emotional time-bomb and there is no telling what could happen if Tsunade or Ibiki see him and say or do the wrong thing.

Additionally, he holds all the memories of the adult Madara without the strength and protection of his grown body. He is more of a target now than ever.

They have to act quickly, and unfortunately, they are left with only one option. Especially as a familiar chakra approaches.

“Tsunade is coming this way,” Tobirama’s voice cuts through the silence.

“We need to go,” Ino returns without hesitation, she will not allow harm to come to this child. No matter what the adult version of him has done, he is still only a child in this state.

Hashirama hesitates, Tobirama turns to him, “she is right, Elder brother, we no longer have control of this situation and we need to leave.”

Hashirama nods and clasps his hands together. A deep rumble vibrates the floor and then the stone wall to the side of the room opens to a wooden tunnel extending far out. Tobirama leaves a clone to distract Tsunade so they can get a head start. Ino urges Madara forward and Hashirama leads the way into the tunnel. Tobirama follows behind and the hole closes then in

The Mokuton tunnel effectively blocks anyone from sensing them from above as the vines absorb chakra from both sides and they move seamlessly below the village. Not five minutes later, Tobirama informs them, “my clone has dissipated, Tsunade knows we are gone.”

Hashirama grimaces, “that was quick.”

Madara wants to ask who Tsunade is, but he senses that now is not the time and instead tightens his grip on Ino’s hand and continues on silently.

Hashirama continuously seals up the tunnel behind them, making it difficult for anyone to try and follow.

Once out of Konoha, they remain underground for several hours. It is much too dangerous to try and breach above ground close to the village. Not dangerous for them, but for everyone else. Hashirama knows what he would do to keep Madara and his brother safe. And he doesn’t want to face that side of him. Not again.

Eventually, Hashirama stops and he turns to look at them. The tunnel is illuminated by two balls of bright blue watery chakra suspended above Tobirama’s shoulders.

“Do you sense anyone nearby?”

“I don’t. It is safe to go above ground now, Elder brother.”

Hashirama nods and promptly conjures a wooden column to split open the earth above them and create an opening. Hashirama climbs up first and surveys the area. He trusts his brother, but Tobirama cannot sense traps. 

Once the other three are out of the tunnel, Hashirama closes it up and retracts his chakra from the Mokuton, leaving it there permanently. It looks to be about mid-morning and they are now quite a few kilometers away from Konoha. 

Before they move on, Hashirama turns to Ino. He places a steady hand on her shoulder, “this will likely be your last chance to turn back, Ino.”

She takes his warning seriously and she looks in the direction of Konoha – her home. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Ino!” Madara becomes distressed over the threat of losing her and Ino turns to smile at him.

“I have made my choice and I do not intend to go back on it now.”

Hashirama refuses to put Ino in further harms way and right now, the most dangerous place for her is Konoha. He will protect her.

Madara sighs, relieved. And Hashirama nods, accepting her decision.

“I think it will be best to head towards the shore and perhaps further to Water Country.” Tobirama begins, looking in the direction they would have to go, “there should be a village on the way where we can change our appearance and collect supplies.”

“Then let’s go.”

The life of the Shinobi is sudden and without warning. They prepared for this, however. All of Tobirama and Hashirama’s belongings that were left in the village after their deaths are safely sealed within two scrolls strapped to Tobirama’s belt – including their armour and weapons.

The four of them jump into the trees and begin a fast pace away from the village. Ino’s heart aches when she thinks of Sakura and her other friends. She is leaving so much behind, but she is gaining something arguably more important by leaving. She is standing for something she believes in. And somehow, she knows her father would be proud of her.

Ino smiles to herself and looks over at the young boy still clutching her hand. Madara looks at her and his face softens.

She knows in her heart that she is doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT, I thrive on your involvement and I want your input. The last chapter was imperative in helping me write this chapter as will the comments on this chapter help with the next.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and leave a kudos!  
> And check out my Tumblr! I post fanart and analysis on..stuff. Mostly Madara and Hashirama.  
> @the-founders


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